


with your hands behind your back

by east_end_boys



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: First Meetings, M/M, criminal! ben, just Ben really, police officer! callum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:35:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21707581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/east_end_boys/pseuds/east_end_boys
Summary: The door swings open to a stern-looking blonde woman who sighs at the sight of them.‘What’s he done now?’ she rolls her eyes. ‘Phil!’ she screams without waiting for an answer, and Callum winces.Several people, including the man in question, appear from different doors down the hallway. Callum’s eyes land on a handsome bloke standing in the doorway of the kitchen.‘Actually, we’re not here for your husband, Mrs. Mitchell,’ Officer Dean began.*orrr Callum's got a murder to solve and Ben is the prime suspect. Chaos ensues.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 143
Kudos: 500





	1. Chapter 1

C

Callum’s heard of the Mitchells. Anyone who’s anyone in East London has heard of the Mitchell’s, never mind a police officer. Murder. Arson. Blackmail. Dodgy business deals. He wonders how any of them still walk the streets.

‘This is gonna be a nightmare,’ Officer Dean moans as they approach the family’s Walford residence. ‘Hope you’ve done your stretches,’ she says before knocking the front door.

‘I doubt he’ll do a runner.’ The door swings open to a stern-looking blonde woman who sighs at the sight of them.

‘What’s he done now?’ she rolls her eyes. ‘Phil!’ she screams without waiting for an answer, and Callum winces.

Several people, including the man in question, appear from different doors down the hallway. Callum’s eyes land on a handsome bloke standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

‘Actually, we’re not here for your husband, Mrs. Mitchell,’ Officer Dean began.

*

Ben does a runner.

Officer Dean takes off after him through the house without a second of hesitation. ‘Go ‘round the front!’ she yells. Callum blinks after her.

‘Giving him a head start?’ Phil chuckles, seemingly amused by the whole situation. His eyes widen as he snaps out of it, breaking into a sprint around the front of the house. He rounds the corner as Ben hits the ground running over the back wall.

He makes a dash through the center of the square and through a market busy with people. Callum apologises profusely as he nudges, barely avoids and shoves shoppers in his haste to catch up.

Ben looks at him over his shoulder and cackles. ‘Keep up!’ he heckles, turning a corner with a smirk.

‘Run, Forest, run!’ a random man yells at him as he passes through. He rounds the corner and almost trips over his feet as he comes to a sudden stop. Ben leans against a wall by an alley, a shit-eating grin on his face while Callum is unable to do anything but stare at him, confused.

‘Can’t be bothered, it turns out,’ Ben breathes. ‘Been a while since my last Pilates class. Besides, I was starting to feel bad, you’d have never caught me,’ he smirks.

‘I- I’m in pretty good shape thanks,’ Callum remarks, forgetting himself.

‘I can see that,’ Ben remarks, giving him a once-over. Callum stammers for a response as Whitney rounds the corner and bumps into him.

‘Ben Mitchell,’ she gasps, ‘you’re under arrest on the suspicion of murder.’ Ben’s brow furrows, the smirk falling from his lips.

Callum cuffs him while Whitney does the talking. ‘Tighter,’ Ben whispers when Callum winds the cuffs around his wrists. If Callum’s face goes red, well at least Ben’s got his back turned to him.

*

‘They normally can’t shut you up,’ Officer Dean comments on Ben’s silent form. He tilts his head at her from across the table. Callum sits awkwardly beside her, tapping a pen on the table. Ben looks at the pen and then to his face.

‘I use my mouth selectively.’ He makes direct eye contact when he says it and oh God Callum is sweating. He takes a long sip of his water.

‘Just tell us where you were last night,’ he says, and hopes the waver in his voice wasn’t as obvious to everyone else as it was to him. Ben’s eyes don’t look away.

‘Was having sex.’

 _Jesus_ , Callum thinks.

‘Who with? What time? Where?’ Whitney asks, unfazed.

‘Some bloke,’ he answers. ‘That a crime?’

‘We found a Grindr conversation on the victim’s phone that shows us he had plans to meet you.’ She holds up a screenshot of the conversation. Ben looks at it, but his poker face remains the same. They all know it ain’t his first time at the rodeo. ‘This the bloke?’

‘No,’ he answers. ‘Chap didn’t turn up. Guess we know why now.’

‘This other bloke got a name?’

‘Didn’t ask. I’d be happy to show you our conversation history. Must warn you, though, it ain’t exactly PG,’ he smiles. Callum shuffles some papers to avoid Ben’s eyes.

*

‘This still doesn’t clear your name,’ Whit tells him, once they’ve seen the messages. There were pictures, thankfully none of Ben, Callum might have spontaneously combusted.

‘How about we send him a message? Maybe I can persuade him to come in and help us out.’

‘You can try,’ Whitney says.

‘Oh, trust me,’ Ben says, and once again meets Callum’s gaze. ‘I can be very persuasive.’

*

He replies to Ben’s message almost immediately.

‘Ugh, keen,’ Ben comments to himself, face repulsed. ‘He’s coming.’

The guy does come. Tanned, muscled and with a stubbled, sharp jaw. Not who Callum thought would be Ben’s type, although Callum reminds himself he doesn’t know Ben outside of his criminal profile. Andrew, he says his name is, verifies Ben’s story.

It wasn’t romantic.

They release Ben, who saunters out of the station with the boy in tow. Callum watches him as he leaves, but not before he glances over his shoulder and sends a wink Callum’s way.

Just like that, Ben’s gone. The case consumes most of Callum’s day and he doesn’t get home until after midnight. He’s exhausted, calves sore from the running earlier, and yeah maybe he could be in better shape after all. He ignores his dinner in the fridge, takes a shower and it’s only when he’s settled in bed reflecting on his day that he’s reminded of the smirk.

Ben fucking Mitchell.

He tries to push any thoughts away, can’t help himself than to think of the way Ben’s body pressed into him as he cuffed him. He reaches down and touches himself. Remembers the way Ben smirked as the cuffs were slapped onto him, the way he seemed to enjoy it.

 _Tighter_.

He pictures Ben, naked except for those handcuffs, and everything he wanted to do to his lean body.

_Tighter. Tigh-_

Callum finishes, cleans himself up, and finally manages to get some sleep.

*

A week and a half passes, and Callum has no time to spare a second thought to the events of that particular arrest. Another body turned up, found across the river, which not only kept him busy in work and but kept him awake most nights. It wasn’t pretty.

They make him a fake Grindr account at the station, an idea that took a lot of convincing. They had hoped to find something suspicious but it turned out unfruitful. Whitney thinks he could use it to unwind after work. He doesn’t entertain the idea. He hadn’t thought twice about it until he was relaxing in front of the TV with a beer when his phone pinged. He squints at the message.

_so when are you blowing me? x_

‘Classy,’ Callum sighs in disgust, almost dismisses the message entirely when he reads the username. _Big_Ben96._ Ben Mitchell’s username, if he recalls correctly.

His heartbeat skyrockets as he taps onto Ben’s account. There’s pictures. The first one is a selfie, a smirk on his lips, eyes piercing. He looks good. The second is one of Ben laughing, a side-profile taken by someone else in a pub. The third is Ben’s-

Callum almost drops the phone. He locks it hastily, a wave of guilt washing over him as if he’s invaded Ben’s privacy somehow. He blows out a long breath. He just saw Ben Mitchell’s penis. The phone buzzes again. He hesitates before looking.

_could always blow you x_

A new message.

_Officer Highway_

Callum sucks in a harsh breath and leaves the phone face-down on the coffee table. He needs a shower. And a stronger drink.

*

He ignores the messages. Ben doesn’t message again. He’s partly disappointed and partly relieved. Ben Mitchell isn’t the type of hook-up he’s looking for. Hell, he’s not even looking for hook-ups. He deletes the app from his phone but he thinks the mental image of Ben Mitchell’s penis might be forever ingrained in his brain.

*

‘Any tea?’ Whitney sighs as she joins him at his desk. He doesn’t look up from his paperwork.

‘Just of the drinking variety,’ he answers.

‘Boring, but that’ll do,’ she says, and lifts his mug for a sip. There’s a beat of silence. He closes his notebook with a grin.

‘Go on then,’ he rolls his eyes. ‘You’re waiting for me to ask.’ She considers him for a moment before her face breaks out in a beaming smile. She holds up her phone, giving Callum an eyeful of a man in a suit.

‘Name’s Leo. Cute, ain’t he?’ she smiles. Callum shrugs, too clean cut for his own type, but Whitney doesn’t seem to pick up on his lack of enthusiasm. ‘And he’s a lawyer.’

‘Oh, gonna be a right crimefighting duo, aren’t you?’ She tilts her head at him.

‘Don’t worry, Cal, you’ll always be my Watson.’ His mouth drops open in fake outrage.

‘Why am _I_ Watson?’ he balks.

‘Could always be my Robin.’ He scowls at her as she walks away. ‘To the Batmobile,’ she announces. He sighs and grabs his coat.

*

‘What about you?’ Whitney asks later, blowing on a cup of coffee. Callum looks at her with questioningly raised eyebrows. ‘Any boys catching your eye lately?’ An image of Ben’s penis flashes in his mind.

‘Nah,’ he answers, dipping his gaze.

‘Oh, there is,’ she sings. ‘Who is it? Dave on reception?’ He squints at her.

‘ _Dave on reception_? No,’ he scoffs.

‘Dave’s nice, why not’ she asks, seemingly offended.

‘Don’t mix work and pleasure,’ he answers. Dave _was_ nice, and Callum didn’t realise he was even into lads, but Dave was just Dave. ‘No time for boys, anyway,’ he says. Whitney gives him an _oh, come on_ look but he’s saved from an earful when a call comes through on the radio.

*

Callum is tense when they pull up outside Square Dealz. Ben Mitchell is standing in the lot outside, talking to a punter, when he catches sight of their car over the man’s shoulder. His salesman face falters for a brief moment before he plasters a smile back on. They talk for another minute before Ben shakes the man’s hand and they part.

‘Another day, another Mitchell,’ Whitney sighs as she exits the car. Callum follows suit.

‘Afternoon, Officers,’ Ben greets. ‘You lookin’ for a new model?’ he asks, gesturing towards the row of cars lined up along the lot. He eyes Callum up and down. ‘Be happy to take you ‘round the back…’ Callum bites his gum as Ben meets his eyes. ‘If there’s nothing here you fancy.’ Ben looks to Whitney with a grin. Callum feels his ears go pink.

‘Just here for a chat,’ Whitney answers.

‘A social call,’ he claps his hands, rubbing them together. ‘I’ll stick the kettle on, shall I?’

*

‘So, how’re things since we last caught up?’ Ben asks like they’re old friends, setting the tray down on his desk. He hands Whitney a tea which she accepts with a wry look on her face. Callum accepts his mug with a small thanks, not meeting the man’s eyes. He can’t stop thinking about it. The _penis_. His dick twitches and he feels his face redden.

‘Mr. Mitchell-’

‘Is my dad. The rest of my friends call me Ben,’ he smirks.

‘Ben,’ Whitney starts again. ‘Andrew McLaughlin has been murdered.’ Ben blinks at her.

‘Who?’

Whitney sighs. ‘Your alibi for your last arrest. His body was just discovered next to the Thames this morning.’ Ben looks at her for another moment.

‘Andrew,’ he repeats. ‘Andrew? ‘Oh!’ he says, realization dawning on his face. ‘Yeah, I remember him. Why are you telling _me_?’

‘We believe we have a serial killer on our hands. Someone targeting individuals using Grindr. We’d like to know if you have any information you might be able to share with us, given your connection to two of our victims.’

‘Sorry, Officer Dean, we didn’t really get to chatting while I had his-’

‘Please,’ Callum interrupts. Ben pauses, lips parted. Callum swallows. ‘Let’s leave the gory details out of it, for the sake of a dead man.’ Ben sighs with a face that said _fine_ and closes his eyes.

‘Was ghosted the other day,’ he says, opening his eyes and looking at Callum, who’s eyes widen. ‘So, I text _him_ instead to ask if he was free.’ He turns his gaze to Whitney. ‘He declined. Not a good day for the ego, I’ll admit, but he had plans already.’

‘Did he say where? Or who with?’

Ben considers her. ‘Said something about a group thing.’ Ben raises his hands with a look of disdain. ‘No thanks.’

‘Is there anything else?’ Whitney asks.

‘Don’t think so, no,’ Ben answers. Whitney takes a long gulp of her tea and leaves the mug down.

‘Well, thank you for your co-operation, Mr. M- Ben.’ Ben nods, still smirking.

‘I’m going to leave my number here,’ Callum says, placing a card on the desk. A grin spreads across Ben’s face. ‘In case there’s anything you might remember later.’ He somehow manages to keep his voice even.

‘Will I actually get a response?’ Ben mutters.

‘Sorry?’ Whitney asks.

‘Nothing,’ Ben exhales as they all stand. ‘I’ll definitely make use of it, should the opportunity _arise_ ,’ he says, pocketing the card. Callum clears his throat, face heating up under Ben’s gaze.

‘Well, have a nice day, Ben,’ she says and makes her way towards the door.

‘Thanks for the tea,’ Callum says, finally meeting Ben’s eyes. He nods simply, holding Callum’s stare. Callum looks away, feeling awkward, and makes for the door, Whitney having already left the building.

‘Also,’ Callum stops, turning back to Ben. Ben glances up at him from where he’s sat back down at his desk. ‘Be careful out there, yeah?’

Ben tilts his head at him and the smirk returns. ‘What’s it to you?’ he asks. Callum shakes his head, embarrassed, and dips his gaze to the floor before quickly turning to leave, unsure as to why he opened his mouth in the first place.

*

It’s 8am and Callum’s just coming off the night shift when he steps into the station carpark and bumps into someone. ‘Oi! Watch where you’re going,’ the familiar voice shouts. Ben turns, looking worse for wear. His face is hard and bruised, although it smoothens out a fraction.

‘Officer Highway,’ he greets, eyes squinting. ‘Fancy seeing you here. You following me or something?’

‘Could have asked you the same thing,’ Callum answers, surprising himself.

Ben scoffs, looking away. ‘You ain’t worth a night in a cell, trust me.’

‘And what _is_ worth it?’ Callum asks, gesturing to the large bruise on his cheek. Ben meets his eyes, his gaze heavy, looking taken aback by the question. The patented smirk spreads across his face, breaking the tension.

‘You worried about me, Officer Highway?’

‘No,’ Callum lies.

‘I do hope you’re better at catching lies than you are telling them,’ he says, holding his stare. Callum blushes before looking away.

‘Best get on, I’m back here in twelve hours.’

‘Until next time,’ Ben nods. Callum chuckles despite himself. ‘I’ll text you,’ Ben says with a wink, and before Callum can protest, Ben is sauntering away. Callum sighs, not entirely convinced by his own annoyance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk what this was. part 2 coming soon?
> 
> let me know what you think xo


	2. Chapter 2

Whitney hands Callum a mug of coffee which he accepts gratefully. She leaves a couple of Digestives down on his desk and wordlessly returns to their drawing board. He watches her stare contemplatively at the various names, locations and evidence scrawled on it. She lifts a marker and adds Ben Mitchell to their suspect list.

‘What’s that for?’ he asks cautiously.

She glances over her shoulder at him and shrugs. ‘Dunno. Best not to leave any stones unturned. He’s interacted with two of the victims before their deaths. Two’s a coincidence but three’s a pattern,’ she says, raising her eyebrows.

Callum lifts a biscuit to distract himself from her gaze. He knows Ben’s history, although manslaughter at sixteen and serial killing are two very different things. He doesn’t voice such an opinion, thinks it best to avoid the topic altogether.

‘How are things with Leo?’ he asks, and Whitney eagerly accepts the subject change.

After an earful about her and Leo’s most recent date, Callum excuses himself for some fresh air. It’s 2am and he hasn’t left his desk since his shift started. Truth was, they were getting nowhere with this case.

Whoever the killer was, they knew what they were doing.

*

Callum stares at the message. It’s a new number, but he knows who it is straight away.

_Unknown: You got a name or is it just Officer?_

He puts his fork down and abandons his carbonara to reply.

_Callum: This is a work number Ben. Emergencies only._

An answer comes back immediately.

_U: Give me your number then_

_C: Unless you’ve got any new information leave this number alone._

He sighs, regretting leaving the man his card. He probably should have known better.

_U: Guess I’ll just have to stick with Officer for now ;)_

He rolls his eyes, ignores the way his heartbeat quickens and leaves the phone down, returning to his microwave meal.

*

Callum is passing the reception office door en route to the canteen when he hears Ben’s voice. He stops himself with a hand on the doorjamb, his stomach fluttering, twisting his head to catch a glimpse of the man standing on the other side of the glass. He’s smirking, because of course he is, voice low enough that Callum can’t make out the words he’s saying.

Dave laughs at something he says and Ben’s eyes are dark but sparkling. His eyes flick over Dave’s shoulder to Callum, who stands dumbly in the doorway. ‘There he is,’ Ben says, lips still curled. Callum swallows.

Dave approaches him, turning his back to Ben. ‘Ben Mitchell’s here, says he’s got some information you might find useful,’ he says lowly. Callum’s attention is caught by Ben checking Dave out before aiming a grin his way. Something inside of Callum twigs.

‘I’ll be back in a minute, tell him to take a seat,’ he answers, eyes still on Ben. With that, he turns around and heads for Whitney’s desk. He’s suddenly lost his appetite.

*

Ben is sat across from him, arms crossed, an eyebrow quirked. The ticking clock on the wall is deafening. Where the bloody hell was Whit? Callum glances up from the table and meets Ben’s staring eyes. They’re bright, mischievous. He looks back at the desk, checks his watch, looks at the clock, meets Ben’s eyes again.

Ben smirks. ‘You feeling okay, Officer?’ he asks, tone thick with enjoyment. Callum shifts in his chair.

‘Fine. You know you have my number, you didn’t need to come all the way down here, Mr. Mitchell.’ Ben raises a hand for Callum to stop.

‘Please, just Ben,’ he protests, an edge of irritation to his tone. Mr. Mitchell was his father, Ben had said before. A touchy subject, perhaps. ‘Was in the neighbourhood, thought you’d appreciate seeing my handsome face,’ he says with a head tilt. Callum looks away, the tips of his ears going pink. ‘Besides,’ Ben says, leaning in with the playful look back on his face. ‘It’s just too much fun making your face go red.’

Just then Whitney comes through the door, looking flustered, but regains some composure as she straightens herself out. Ben promptly leans away and Callum breathes a sigh of relief. ‘Ben,’ she says, and he shakes her hand, a false but polite smile on his face. ‘What can we help you with?’ she asks, sitting down.

‘Actually, I’m here to help you,’ Ben says.

‘Oh,’ Whitney perks up, glancing at Callum who sinks into his chair, struggling to share her enthusiasm.

*

Ben is actually quite helpful, much to his surprise. He mostly sits in silence as Ben explains how a recent hook-up had been involved in the same orgy as Andrew McLaughlin on the night of his death. They hadn’t been able to trace Andrew’s last steps, and this was a start. Anyone involved was yet to come forward, and Ben had gotten his name and number.

‘Must’ve been keen for a round two,’ Ben smirks. Callum feels himself go hot at the intrusive image of Ben’s penis forcing its way into his head. He curses himself for it, not looking at Ben for fear of seeing a knowing look.

‘On that note,’ Whitney stands, closing her folder. Callum joins her, standing a bit too forcefully, his chair scraping against the floor. ‘Thanks for coming in, Ben, we appreciate it. If there’s anything else you hear, please don’t hesitate to get in touch. Officer Highway will escort you back out.’

Callum stares after her as she leaves the two of them alone. Ben slowly shrugs his coat back on and bounces on his heels. ‘There’s an escort joke there that I’m not above making,’ he says, and Callum scoffs. A small smile tugs at Ben’s lips and suddenly Callum feels awkward, gesturing for Ben to follow him.

He leads Ben back to the reception, holding the door for Ben to pass through. Ben nods his thanks and steps through, turning when he’s on the other side of the threshold. Callum stands in the doorway, letting the door hit his back before it closes entirely. They’re standing too close. There’s a sudden heaviness in the air, like Callum had just walked Ben home after a date and they’ve now reached the point where one of them leads the other into a kiss goodnight.

‘Thanks,’ Callum comes out with instead, attempting to push any thoughts of kissing Ben out of his head. ‘We appreciate you coming in.’

‘No problem,’ Ben nods. Callum is half expecting a cheeky smile or comment, confused by his own disappointment when the man just turns to leave instead. ‘Better be watching my arse,’ he says without looking back. Callum huffs a laugh as he watches Ben leave the station, now confused at his own relief.

He’s glad to see there’s no one currently manning reception to have witnessed that. He wipes his hand over his face and sighs, returning to his desk. He doesn’t understand how a suspect in their murder investigation has managed to get so far under his skin. He looks at Ben’s name scrawled in the large red writing on the board. ‘I still don’t trust him,’ Whitney says. He hums and distracts himself with work.

*

They find Aaron, Ben’s lead, who fails to name any other members present at their orgy. He does, however, reveal that he hosted the group of strangers, and it gives them their first idea of a timeline for the night. From there, they begin gathering CCTV footage from the area.

Andrew is seen on CCTV walking alone on the East side of the city about half an hour before his approximated time of death. It opens up doors, and it’s a painstaking two days of scrolling through all the CCTV footage they can find. It’s a dead end. He enters a blind spot around 2:15am and all they’ve learned from it is that he pissed on a phone box on his final journey.

Whitney suggests they go for drinks soon. Apparently all Callum does is work and sleep, and even then, the sleeping side of things is debatable. He has two heavy bags under his eyes where he’s sat at his desk. A hand snakes around him and switches off his monitor.

‘Oi,’ he complains weakly, looking up at Whitney.

‘Home time. You’ve seen enough of this place.’ Callum opens his mouth to argue but the words die with the glare she gives him. ‘I’ll drop you home,’ she says, leaving no room for argument. He decides he doesn’t want to argue anyway.

Whitney leaves him home, wags her finger at him to get a good night’s sleep and promises to pick him up in the morning. He didn’t realise how tired he was until he was sat in the car away from paperwork and emails and evidence. He’s dead on his feet as he stumbles up the steps to his flat.

His unoccupied brain returns its attention back to Ben. He wanks himself off in the shower, thoughts of Ben and _tighter_ and when he cums he’s not sure if what he’s doing is helping moderate his fascination with the man or feeding it.

He collapses into bed, exhausted, and an idea comes to him just as he falls asleep.

*

Aaron said they started the night in Jungle, the biggest gay nightclub in the area. They had already retrieved the CCTV footage of the club from the night in question, not giving it a second glance once they confirmed Aaron’s end of the story. Ben had just so happened to mention that he also attended the same club in his initial interview and had also mentioned he had been talking to Andrew McLaughlin the night he died.

He scrolled to around 1am, finding the moment the group left together, and worked his way backwards, following Andrew’s movements in particular. It was at around 12:45am that he stumbles into the man Callum was looking for.

He plays the footage. Ben’s walking toward the bathroom, knocking back the rest of his drink and promptly ditches the plastic cup when Andrew stumbles into his side. Ben stumbles, but reaches out to steady the other man, who’s drunkenly swaying. They talk briefly before Andrew continues on his way. Ben continues his journey to the bathroom.

So, Ben was telling the truth about that much at least. He skips forward, following Ben’s movements, feels almost guilty for being so intrusive. He finds what he was looking for. At 2:30am, Ben’s still there, kissing a stranger on the dancefloor.

It was around this time that Andrew was across the city being murdered. ‘What’s this?’ Whitney asks from behind, startling him.

‘Oh. Just, uh- footage from Jungle that night.’ Whitney peers closer at the screen.

‘Is that Ben Mitchell?’ she asks, creasing her nose. ‘Jesus, looks like he’s about to eat that poor man alive.’ Callum shakes his head, closing the footage off.

‘He was there all night, which means we can officially take him off the suspect list.’ Whitney shrugs.

‘Was just precautionary, anyway. Good work,’ she beams, patting him on the shoulder. He presses his lips together, always feeling uncomfortable at any kind of praise, and pulls the footage back up once she’s gone. He watches as Ben kisses the other man hungrily.

Time to put an end to this, he thinks.

*

Callum copies the number over onto his personal phone, types out the message and hits send before he can convince himself otherwise. He puts his phone facedown on the coffee table and waits. He’s nervous, leg bouncing and fingers trembling with adrenaline. He wants a beer but knows he’ll be the one driving.

He considers turning the TV on to distract himself, but before he can lift the remote his phone pings. He’s glad no one’s there to see how quickly he grabs for it. He reads Ben’s reply, heartbeat skyrocketing.

_B: Your place or mine?_

*

Callum pulls up outside the car lot on Albert Square. There’s a dim light on inside. He releases a shaky breath. Callum doesn’t normally do this. Hook-ups. He’s old fashioned, prefers to wait until he knows he likes someone before taking things this far. He releases his grip on the steering wheel and turns the engine off.

He reminds himself he doesn’t have to do this. But he wants this. He wants Ben. And the sooner he has him, the sooner he can move on and forget about him. Ben will be bored after and move on to find someone else to pester. It was win-win, really. He was still a bundle of nerves as he unbuckled his seat belt.

He walks slowly toward the building, eyes wide and heart hammering in his chest. He takes a moment before knocking the door.

‘It’s open,’ Ben calls. Callum enters, stepping into the warmth of the single desk lamp struggling to light up the room. Ben is sat at his desk, face blank, his tilted head supported on one hand. Callum stands awkwardly by the door, suddenly not sure of what to do with his hands.

‘Working late, then?’ he asks, just to break the silence.

‘No, Officer Highway,’ he says earnestly. ‘Family’s already in bed and I want to be as loud as I like.’ It knocks the breath out of Callum’s lungs. _Jesus_. Ben stands, and Callum can see in the light that he’s already hard in his jeans. He rounds the desk and slowly approaches him.

He stops just inches away, face dark but eyes burning. His breath hitches at how good he looks. His hands tremble at his sides, not just with anxiety but with want. Ben looks down his body, tantalizingly slowly, and surprises Callum with his next words.

‘You’ve never done this before, have you?’ Ben asks. ‘A hook-up, I mean.’ Callum shakes his head, wonders if he should feel embarrassed by how obvious it is. Ben reaches out and takes his hand before he can start an internal debate, guiding him over to the sofa and pushes him to sit down.

He straddles Callum’s thighs, cups Callum’s face with hands. ‘Relax,’ Ben says, and he nods. Callum watches as his tongue darts out of his mouth to wet his lips and fuck, he can’t wait anymore. He kisses Ben, who makes a noise in the back of his throat and kisses him back. It’s chaste, softer than he intended and over too quickly.

They pull apart, Ben’s brow furrowed and a dazed look on his face. For a brief moment, Callum thinks he’s done something wrong. But then Ben’s hand curls around the back of his neck and their lips are crashing together, open-mouthed and deep and _hungry_. Ben moans into his mouth, rocks his hips against Callum’s own, pulling at his shirt and belt and Ben’s warm hands are suddenly on his bare chest.

Ben continues grinding against him. Callum tips his head back, eyes fluttering closed, and Ben’s mouth is suddenly biting at his neck. ‘Need to be presentable,’ Callum grunts. Ben leans in close.

‘Sorry, _Officer_ ,’ he whispers, biting his earlobe.

Callum moans, jerking his hips.

He’s _fucked_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments on chapter 1 they were beyond positive, there's nothing more encouraging so please let me know what you think, hopefully this is a worthy chapter 2?
> 
> Happy holidays pals x


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was fluffier than expected after the last couple of chapters but oops oh well

Callum’s happy for Whitney.

However.

Leo _this_. Leo _that_.

Callum smiles and nods when he’s supposed to, hums in agreement when there’s a lull in conversation, not even listening to what he’s agreeing to, mostly just thinking about Ben.

He didn’t expect Ben to text him again after the other night, didn’t think he’d want Ben to, so he’s surprised by the feeling of disappointment in the pit of his stomach. Of course, Callum hasn’t texted him either, and probably wasn’t going to.

Of course he wasn’t going to.

*

He types out the text. Deletes it. Types it out again. Sighs.

Deletes it.

*

He sits quietly at his desk, watches the clock on his desktop snap to 9:58. It’s been a long day, they’ve worked four hours overtime and he’s ready to call it quits. He’s been thankful for the distraction, he’s hardly thought of Ben at all. He pulls out his phone, a sudden urge to embarrass himself taking over.

Whitney puts her coat on. ‘Leo’s taking me for a drink.’

He embarrasses himself.

*

He’s disappointed but not surprised when he goes to bed alone, his phone remaining quiet for the rest of the night. He gets a Snapchat from Whitney that he doesn’t open. He’s nodding off when his phone pings and he’s wide awake.

Jesus, he’s pathetic.

He almost decides to not look, because for a moment he thinks he’s better than that. It doesn’t take long to realise he’s not.

 _B:_ _Bring the handcuffs._

He’s not proud of how quickly he gets dressed.

*

‘Straight to it, then,’ Ben grunts as Callum mouths down his neck, fingers curling around the hem of Ben’s tee shirt and pulls it over his head.

‘Shut up.’

He kisses down Ben’s chest, his stomach and unzips his jeans. He’s been thinking of this all week.

‘Full of surprises, you are,’ Ben says before Callum does shut him up.

*

‘You didn’t bring the handcuffs.’ Callum chuckles as he slips his shoe back on, looks up at Ben buckling his belt up.

‘We don’t just keep them handy, y’know.’

‘Shame,’ Ben shrugs, leaning against the desk. Callum stands from the sofa, shrugs his coat back on.

‘Maybe next time,’ he says without thinking, and suddenly he feels back to his usual self. Ben’s eyes travel down his body, making him squirm, cheeks burning. Ben smirks at him.

‘Next time,’ he repeats, and Callum looks away, face red. Stupid. ‘I’ll hold you to that.’ Callum blinks at him. Ben cocks his chin at him, still smirking, and leans forward, lips shiny and parted. Callum leans into it.

‘Until then,’ he steps back. Callum scoffs, nodding, not quite sure where to look. ‘Goodnight, Officer,’ he says, turning away and lifting some documents off the desk. Callum takes the cue to leave, says goodnight and leaves without looking back.

*

He walks into work with a spring in his step, coffees in hand, a mood that’s quickly soured when he sees the look on Whitney’s face.

Another body.

They drive to the crime scene, the journey silent. Callum stares out the window, wondering how so many victims leave so little clues. Wonders how many people need to die before they get their act together. Wonders how much patience Jack Branning has for them handling this case.

Tina’s waiting for them when they arrive. ‘Hope you’ve had a light breakfast,’ she says in lieu of a hello.

*

It’s brutal. There’s a prism tattooed on his left calf and it’s hard to tell if this is one of theirs. They won’t know until they’ve interviewed the victim’s family but Callum already knows. He glances around the warehouse they’re standing in, imagines he just wanted somewhere quiet and secluded to get off. He’s reminded of last night and wants to be sick.

Whitney sees the look on his face and looks like she’s about to speak. ‘I’m fine,’ he says, with more determination than he feels.

*

_B: Come over?_

Callum stares at the message, stomach doing a flip in a bad way, looks up at the name still scrawled on the board. Whitney puts a cup of tea in front of him. He quickly locks his phone, takes a burning sip and leans back in his seat.

The man didn’t have any family. Spent some time in prison. Had some dodgy deals, illegal money lending and the likes. Nothing too bad. Reminds him of Ben. Had a few friends that he lived with, all equally reluctant to help them.

‘You should head on, it’s just a waiting game now,’ Whitney says, referring to the DNA testing. Callum doesn’t look at her.

‘We don’t have time to wait. There has to be something more we can do.’ Whitney is silent for a moment.

‘Go home and get some rest. I’ll stay on, call you if there’s any updates. We’ve got interviews in the morning, no point in both of us being knackered.’

He sighs, knowing she’s right. ‘You sure?’ She nods and shuffles some papers. ‘I’ll come back in a few hours, let you get some rest too.’

‘Okay,’ she says with a tired smile. He turns to leave. ‘Callum?’ she calls after him, and he looks back at her. ‘We’ll catch him, you know.’ Callum nods wordlessly, pulls out his phone and types out a reply as he leaves.

*

He taps his fingers against the steering wheel of the car, jumps when knuckles rap the car window. He blinks at Ben standing on the other side, sporting his usual smirk but with a hint of confusion on his face. ‘You trying to give me a heart attack?’ Callum shakes his head.

Ben snorts. Callum lowers the window. Ben folds his arms, leans into the open window. ‘You planning on coming in or do you prefer the back seat?’ Ben’s tone is light although he’s sure there’s a genuine question in there somewhere. Callum dips his gaze, suddenly fascinated by his own two feet. ‘Everything okay?’

His tone isn’t as light now. Callum laughs, mostly at himself. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have come. It’s been a long day and I- I didn’t want to-’

Ben reaches out, lifts Callum’s chin and pulls him into a kiss. Callum sinks into it, let’s Ben break the kiss to open the door and then he’s allowing Ben to take him by the hand away from the car lot, heart fluttering.

‘Where are we-’

‘Fancy a change,’ is all Ben says as he leads him through the back gate and pulls him into another kiss. They make it through the kitchen door and stumble into the dark living room. Callum feels the backs of his legs hit the sofa and he falls into a seated position, Ben wasting no time in straddling him, grinding against him.

After a moment Ben pulls away softly, looks down at him.

‘Not feeling it?’ he asks. Callum looks away, laughs awkwardly for lack of anything else to do.

‘What makes you say that?’

Ben puts a hand on Callum’s crotch, eyebrows raised. ‘You’re not exactly stroking my ego here, Officer.’

‘Sorry. Sorry, no-’

‘It’s alright,’ Ben sighs, raising his hands, not sounding at all offended. ‘I can stroke my own ego if needs be,’ he winks. Callum huffs a laugh, shaking his head. ‘Another time.’

Callum nods his head.

‘Okay,’ Ben grunts, climbing off him. Callum stands, straightens himself out. He’s about to suggest he leave when Ben sucker-punches him with ‘Cuppa?’ Callum’s head snaps round to face him. A smirk crawls across Ben’s lips as he stands. ‘I’ll stick the kettle on.’

*

Ben hands him a mug of tea and Callum can’t help but wonder how this is his life. Ben joins him at the table as Callum takes a sip. He winces. ‘That’s a shit cuppa.’

‘Oi,’ Ben laughs. ‘My mum runs a café I know a good cup of tea when I see one.’

‘And Tetley? Really?’

‘You know what.’ Callum pulls the mug out of Ben’s reach, Ben leaning back in his seat with a huff and a quirked eyebrow that says _that’s what I thought_.

They sit in comfortable silence while they drink. ‘Thanks,’ Callum says earnestly.

‘Was just tea,’ Ben answers dimly.

‘No, I mean- For just sitting. Hardly what you wanted from a one night stand.’

‘I’ve had worse,’ he says. ‘Besides, not exactly a _one_ night stand, is it?’ Callum can’t lift his eyes off the table but a quiet laugh escapes his lips.

More silence falls between them, heavier now than before.

‘Why do you sleep with randoms?’ Callum asks.

Ben tilts his head at him. ‘Scratches an itch.’ Callum nods. ‘Why do you?’

‘Not sure I do,’ Callum says, tired and brave because of it. He meets Ben’s eyes.

‘Simon,’ is what he says. Callum blinks at him.

‘What?’

‘I still don’t know your name.’

‘And you guessed _Simon_?’

‘Am I wrong?’

‘ _Obviously_. Who looks at their baby and calls it _Simon_?’

Ben laughs, shaking his head. ‘Tell you what.’

‘What?’ Callum asks, amused.

‘I get one hundred chances to guess your name or I buy you a drink.’ Callum can’t help the smile that comes.

‘And if you get it right?’

‘I buy you a drink.’ Callum laughs, feels like he’s about to explode.

*

He eventually leaves Ben’s. They don’t kiss goodbye, but Ben does walk him to the back gate. He sleeps until 4am, drives to the station and relieves Whitney of her duties. There’s not many others around and truth be told he’s got nothing much else to do.

He pulls his phone out, sees a text from Ben.

_B: Derek._

_C: That’s 98._

*

Whitney arrives at 8:30 and he’s so _tired_. He waited for results that never came, drank his body weight in coffee and now he needs to pee every 20 minutes. They give themselves a shake while they wait for the first interviewee to arrive. It’s tense and almost too quiet for him now.

‘How’s Leo?’ he asks, a sure-fire way to fill the silence.

‘Not sure. Had to cancel drinks at the last minute the other night.’ Callum looks at her curiously. ‘Bianca stuff,’ she says with an eye roll. ‘Hasn’t spoken to me since.’ Callum presses his lips together awkwardly.

‘I’m sure he’ll come ‘round.’ She shrugs at him like she’s not that bothered and he knows she is.

His phone pings. He quickly pulls it out, sticks it on silent.

_B: Graham_

He scoffs.

‘What?’ Whitney asks, peering at his phone. He tilts it forward instinctively and she smirks. ‘Hm, thought there was a boy.’

‘There’s no boy,’ he answers defensively. She simply hums, lip curled in a cocky quirk and he hates that he’s so readable sometimes.

_C: I hope to God you never have to name a child. That’s 86._

The response comes pretty quickly.

_B: A little late for that one. Matthew._

He blinks at the message, doesn’t know what to say, pockets his phone and has no time to let that sit with him because the victim’s first housemate arrives.

*

It’s 3pm, the last interview is just finished and he’s not sure they’re anything the wiser. Only one of four knew he was even gay. They mostly kept tight-lipped, didn’t seem comfortable with the situation, didn’t seem interested in talking to Ol’ Bill.

The one who did know he was gay said he didn’t like to talk about it. Could be seen as leverage in their business. What business that was, he didn’t mention. In fact, no one mentioned much of anything, probably the fear of slipping information to coppers outweighing the need to find justice for their friend.

By the looks of it they’ll be quick to find justice in their own way.

Callum sits back in his seat, blows out a long, tired breath and runs his hands over his face. ‘This is pointless,’ he sighs. ‘These killings aren’t connected. There’s no pattern, there’s no common factor.’

‘We’ll find something,’ she says, although he’s not sure even she believes it at this point.

‘I’m gonna get another coffee.’

*

_B: John._

_C: Middle name. Doesn’t count. 67._

_*_

‘Colm,’ Ben says, and Callum laughs. Ben gasps.

‘Am I hot?’ Callum raises his eyebrows at him, buttoning his shirt back up. Ben tilts his head. ‘You leave the innuendoes to me, alright?’

‘You’re close,’ Callum says. Ben winks at him. He rolls his eyes, grabs his coat.

‘Goodnight, Colin,’ Ben tries.

‘Nope.’

*

It’s nice, when he’s with Ben. He feels light, forgets the weight of the job when they’re together. He likes to keep his work and personal lives separate, although sometimes that’s easier said than done. A few days pass, and he’s back in the car lot, only this time it’s before work.

‘You’ve only ten guesses left,’ Callum warns. Ben presses his lips together in deep thought.

‘Colin.’

‘You’ve guessed that before.’

‘Craig.’

‘No.’

‘I give up.’

‘It’s Phil.’ Ben’s eyes widen comically and it’s the first time he’s seen Ben look so disarmed.

‘Kidding.’ Ben blows out a breath, a shaky laugh following.

‘That ain’t funny, I’ve got enough daddy issues, thanks.’ Callum laughs, pulls his ringing phone out of his pocket.

‘Hello?’

‘Callum,’ Whitney greets, sounding all business. ‘We got something.’

‘What?’ he urges, turning away from Ben. ‘What is it?’

‘The victim had a cellmate during his time in prison and you won’t believe this.’

‘Who was it, Whit?’

‘Ben fucking Mitchell.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip tubbs
> 
> thanks for reading leave a comment and let me know what you think xo


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> accidentally took a 3 month break ooooops

‘Are you on the way to the station?’ Whitney asks.

‘Was just about to leave,’ Callum says, voice tight.

‘Great. Meet me at Square Dealz in ten, yeah?’ Callum swallows.

‘Okay.’

‘Alright?’ Ben asks after a beat of silence once Callum’s off the phone with Whitney. Callum blinks out of his daze, turns back to face Ben who’s staring up at him with a touch of concern on his face. His hands tremble at his sides.

‘Um.’

Ben’s phone buzzes on the desk. He inspects the caller ID and smirks back up at Callum. ‘I gotta take this. Work stuff, so..’ The tone of his voice indicates what _type_ of work stuff, and Callum takes that as his cue to exit. Sometimes Callum forgets that despite being in the clear in this investigation Ben isn’t exactly innocent. ‘Text me later though, yeah?’

Callum nods simply, heartbeat pounding in his ears as he turns to leave. He walks quickly to his car which is parked around the corner and exhales a shaky breath when he gets inside, shirt sticky with sweat.

He’s so fucked.

How could he be so stupid to not only get involved with a Mitchell but also a suspect in a murder investigation? And not just that, a murder investigation he was leading. Ben’s had a connection to every victim so far, has actively messaged two on Grindr which seems to be the killer’s MO and has shared a prison cell with another victim. Two’s a coincidence, three’s a pattern, but four? Callum almost laughs. Of course Ben’s involvement in the case wasn’t over.

He’s about to become their prime suspect all over again and not only does Callum know where Ben was the night of the last murder but he’s about to be Ben’s only alibi.

He presses his forehead against the steering wheel. He needs to sort this before Whitney gets here, give Ben a warning, give them time to think of something. He’s walking through the centre of the square when Whitney’s familiar voice calls out to him. His stomach flips as he turns and plasters on a smile.

She greets him with a cup of tea in a bright blue and pink cup.

‘Morning,’ she beams, no doubt perked up by the new development in the case.

‘Morning,’ he replies, not so enthusiastically. She frowns at him as they begin to walk in the direction of Square Dealz, or the Car Lot as Ben calls it.

‘You alright?’ she asks with a head tilt.

‘Course.’

‘It’s not boy trouble is it?’

‘Something like that,’ he swallows, feeling like he might vomit as they approach the entrance.

‘Sorry. This should cheer you up though, eh?’

She’s right, it should cheer him up. Any officer in East London would be over the moon to have a Mitchell under their thumb. He knocks the door and enters first without thinking better of it. Ben looks up from his desk and his lips curl into a wry smile. It would make Callum’s stomach flip had it not already been doing so for other reasons.

‘What’s this, Round 2?’ he asks.

Callum grimaces, thinks it might’ve been better to have Whitney enter first.

‘Think this is Round 4 or 5 at this stage,’ Whitney says from behind him, and Ben’s face changes immediately when he realises what’s going on. It’s what Callum’s come to recognise as Ben’s interrogation face.

‘And to what do I owe the _pleasure_ , officers?’

‘Just a quick chat,’ Whitney says, closing the door behind her. Ben meets Callum’s pleading eyes, although his face doesn’t change.

‘See you’ve already paid my mum a visit,’ he nods to the cups in their hands. Callum remembers him saying something about his mum owning a café. ‘Didn’t pick one up for me? Bit rude,’ he frowns. ‘I’ve got manners though, so please, take a seat.’ Ben keeps his eyes trained on Whitney as they sit, who pulls out a picture of the latest victim and hands it to Ben. Again, his face doesn’t change, and Callum wonders just how many police interviews this man has sat through.

‘You might recognise this man,’ she begins.

‘My old cellmate, yeah. Tubbs.’

‘He was found dead earlier this week.’ Ben’s façade drops momentarily before he quickly masks his features again. ‘Were you aware of this?’

‘No,’ Ben says, and Callum wants to reach out to him.

‘We think his death is connected to the previous murders we’ve discussed with you. The fourth victim with nothing in common except for one thing. You.’

He scoffs, and finally looks to Callum with shining eyes. ‘What, you still think I’m doing this?’ Callum wants to look away, reminds himself to keeps his own face blank, impersonal, because this is a professional visit.

‘We’re pursuing every option,’ Callum says.

‘This is a joke,’ Ben laughs.

‘Can you confirm for us where you were on Wednesday night? Two nights ago,’ Whitney says, and time seems to slow down. His skin prickles with sweat.

‘Yeah, I was-’

He trails off, smirk fading, and he meets Callum’s eyes again. Ben must see something in his eyes because he quickly clears his throat. ‘I was at home.’ Callum blows out a quiet, shaky breath he didn’t realise he had been holding.

‘All night?’

‘Yes.’

‘Alone?’

‘No. My dad was home too.’

‘And he can verify this?’

‘Of course.’

‘Have you had any kind of sexual relations with the victim lately?’ Ben’s eyes flicker toward Callum and drop to the desk.

‘Yes,’ he answers, stiff. Callum can’t help but look away too. None of this is fair.

‘When?’ Whitney asks, unflinching.

‘Four, maybe five nights ago.’

‘Can you be more specific?’

‘All kind of blurs into one,’ Ben says, and Callum doesn’t have to look to know he’s smirking, and not the kind that Callum’s grown fond of. He stamps down on whatever feelings he has about Ben still sleeping with other people. He’ll deal with those later.

‘If there’s anything you can think of that might be relevant information later please get in touch.’

‘Will do,’ Ben says, eyeing the desk.

‘Thank you for your time, Ben,’ Whitney says, and with that she gets up to leave. Callum hesitates for a moment, watching Ben, and follows Whitney when it becomes clear Ben’s not going to look back. He glances back when he’s pulling the door closed behind him. Ben just stares at his desk.

He feels a longing as the door clicks shut.

‘Still don’t trust him. There’s something he’s not telling us,’ she says matter-of-factly. ‘And I’m going to find out what.’ Callum’s still trembling as he follows her to the Mitchell household.

*

Phil isn’t impressed to see them at his front door for the second time in just a matter of weeks, and Callum wonders what Phil would think of him drinking tea at his kitchen table just the other night with his gay son. He doesn’t imagine that conversation would go down well, although Phil corroborates Ben’s alibi without hesitation.

Relief pours from Callum in waves but his stomach remains in a knot for the remainder of the morning and afternoon. Whitney’s more frustrated than anything. ‘Still don’t trust it,’ is the first thing she says when Phil shows them out. They agree to meet at the station and Callum almost decides to pay Ben a visit on his own.

Thinking better of it, he decides to forego that plan and promptly drives to the station with the aim of clearing his head of Ben for the remainder of the workday. Whitney has other ideas apparently.

‘I want his DNA,’ she says in lieu of a greeting when he walks in. ‘And a search warrant.’

‘I don’t think he did it, Whit,’ Callum sighs.

‘And you can tell me that for sure?’

 _Yes,_ he wants to say.

‘We’ve cleared him already, remember?’

‘Callum.’ She levels him with a hard stare. ‘Every gay man he has a sexual encounter with dies not long after.’ He opens his mouth to refute her point but she interrupts him. ‘I’m going to request the forms,’ she says when he doesn’t answer her, and with that she’s gone. Despite himself, he pulls out his phone and sends a text.

_C: You okay?_

He doesn’t get an answer.

*

It’s 7PM when Callum calls it quits. Whitney’s working on a search warrant, but it’ll probably be tomorrow before it’s granted. The DNA sample doesn’t need to be requested and so Callum and another officer drive separately back to Walford to take it.

A blonde girl Callum knows to be Ben’s younger sister opens the door. She’s pretty and seems to share the usual Mitchell distaste for his kind. She allows them to step inside and it isn’t long before Ben comes down the stairs tantalisingly slowly. Callum almost rolls his eyes.

‘Officers,’ he grins. ‘We’d have set more plates had we known you were popping by.’

‘We’re just here for a DNA sample,’ Callum says, suddenly aware that every Mitchell was present in each of the doorways into the living and dining rooms. Ben opens wide in the fashion of a child, singing a long ‘Aw’ as the officer takes a swab of his saliva.

Ben meets his eyes as it enters his mouth, although his eyes are cold and without the usual spark.

‘I’d be happy to fill a cup with some other fluids,’ Ben offers the other officer.

‘And chuck it over them,’ one of them – a boy, no older than fifteen or sixteen, says. Mrs. Mitchell elbows him and gets a dirty look from the boy in return.

‘That’s quite enough, thanks,’ Callum says.

‘Saving it for someone else, anyway,’ Ben says with a flat stare. Callum presses his lips together in a tight smile, tries not to think to hard about Ben’s words.

‘Well, thank you for your co-operation.’ Ben doesn’t answer, just stares at him. ‘We’ll be off.’ He leaves without another word from anyone. The officer takes the sample back to the station and Callum decides to call an end to a truly terrible day.

*

Ben never answers him, and when he wakes up the next morning he’s got a text from Whitney informing him of a delay in the search warrant. It’s his day off, and he had initially been planning to work overtime. Cases like these don’t usually allow for a day off, but with the warrant stalled he decides to take advantage.

He goes for a jog in the morning which helps him clear his head of Ben and murders. He checks his phone when he gets back and still he still hasn’t gotten an answer, not that he was expecting one at this point. It bothered him more than he cared to admit. Not only that Ben seemed upset with him but that Callum couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

He meets his brother and his girlfriend for lunch, and he successfully deflects any talk of men or work. He mostly just asks about them, it’s been weeks since they’ve seen each other, not that that was out of the ordinary. After a couple of hours, he returns home and floats around not quite knowing what to do with himself. The next time he checks his phone it’s a text from Whitney he’s hoping for. A development in the case, a cat up a tree they need help with, anything.

There’s nothing.

He sighs and wonders if it’s too early in the day to have a drink. He opts for TV instead, something to take his mind of things.

*

He’s never really known how to relax, he’s not made for it, and he figured he could go to work and take his mind off things or just approach the situation head on. That’s how he once again ends up in Walford and it’s not even 3PM. He doesn’t knock before he enters the Car Lot, and to his surprise it’s not Ben sat at the desk but a slender red-headed man.

‘Oh,’ is all he says, dumbly.

‘Can I help ya?’ the man asks in a polite tone.

‘Looking for Ben, actually.’

‘Then there’s definitely no helping ya,’ he says with a smirk. Callum’s not sure what to make of that. ‘He’s not in today, I can take a message?’

Callum considers him. ‘N-nah, thanks, I’ll catch him another time.’

‘Alright, I’ll let him know you popped round. What was your name again?’

He almost says Callum, then remembers their little name game. He wonders if that even applies anymore. ‘Nevermind, actually,’ Callum says, suddenly feeling embarrassed. ‘Forget I was here.’ With that, he leaves, and wonders why he even came here in the first place. Ben obviously wasn’t that keen, was still sleeping with other people, and even then, they weren’t really a thing anyway.

Maybe he was just caught up in the excitement, God knows he has nothing much else going on in his life except work. At least that’s the thought process he resigns himself to until he’s leaving the Car Lot and rounds the corner straight into the man he’s looking for. Callum doesn’t miss how Ben steels himself immediately, composing himself.

‘Ben,’ he says.

‘What can I help you with this time, Officer? You want six months of bank statements? Fingerprints?’ It’s icier than it is sarcastic, and it suddenly clicks for Callum.

‘It ain’t like that,’ he tries to argue.

‘Seems like it is.’

‘Then why did you lie for me?’

Ben scoffs. ‘I didn’t do it for you.’

‘Then why?’

‘I’m a Mitchell. You don’t think I have an alibi for every second of the day that someone can corroborate?’

‘Ben, I-’

‘I ain’t interested. Now go before someone sees me talking to ya, you coppers are like a bad smell.’ He slides past him and enters the Car Lot, leaving Callum dumbfounded on the path outside. He moves quickly to his car, because Ben’s right, this is the last place he needs to be seen.

*

When he gets home he sits in the shower, something he always found comforting. He hugs his knees against his chest, tips his head down and just exists for a moment. He’s always found sitting in the shower comforting, and he finally feels himself start to relax. Catching feelings for a Mitchell was never going to end well.

Is that what he has for Ben? Feelings?

Truth was he liked Ben. He’s sharp and sarcastic and rough around the edges, but he’s got a softer side underneath it all that rears its head every now and then. He hears a text alert in the other room, doesn’t rush himself to check it.

He’s made such a mess of everything. He shouldn’t have gotten involved with the man in the first place. Ruined, like he ruins everything.

It’s only later on when his phone pings for a second time that he’s reminded of the first text message. They’re from Whitney.

_W: Search warrant granted. Wanna join?_

_W: I’m coming to get you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> It's really the last few comments that have been left that encouraged me to start writing this again so if you like it leave a comment and let me know, there's nothing more encouraging!
> 
> hope y'all are keeping safe :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two updates in a week am I feeling okay?

‘What is it we’re looking for?’ Callum asks as Whitney pulls up outside the Mitchell residence, several other police cars in tow.

‘Anything,’ is all she says.

He sighs, tired, already regretting his earlier wish of having an excuse to work on his day off.

‘Still having boy trouble?’

‘Just sick of looking at this place,’ he answers, defeated, leaving the car. It’s the last place he wants to be right now. Whitney carries the appropriate documents with her to the front door, Callum following suit.

It’s an older blonde woman- not Mrs. Mitchell, that answers the door, and Callum can’t help but wonder just how many people live in this house.

‘Oh, for Pete’s sake,’ she sighs.

‘Who is it, Mum?’

 _Mum_.

Ben appears behind her then and pinches the bridge of his nose at the sight of them. ‘Now what?’

He looks just as defeated as Callum feels.

‘We have a warrant to search the property. We’d like to come inside,’ Whitney says. Ben opens his mouth to say something until his mother puts a hand on his chest.

‘That’s alright. We have nothing to hide,’ she says, with what seems to be a genuine smile. After a moment Ben steps aside, head down, allowing them and the other officers to step inside. Callum can’t help but look at him as he passes. Ben’s mum escorts them into the living room.

‘Do we need to leave? It’s just me and Ben in.’

She nods at Ben, who leans against the doorway inspecting the documents.

‘That won’t be necessary, Mrs-’ Whitney trails off.

‘Beale. Call me Kathy.’ He considers just how much involvement in the Mitchell empire she has. He guesses very little, especially when she comes back from the kitchen with a tray of mugs of tea. Callum takes the proffered cup with bewilderment. Not every day you get a cup of tea while searching someone’s house for incriminating evidence.

Most of the officers search upstairs. A couple search the kitchen and dining room while Callum and Whitney search through drawers in the living room. There’s nothing of note to be found. Callum rifles through a cabinet, finds nothing but old photos, a drawer full of old bills and the kind of junk every household has.

He wouldn’t imagine they keep anything suspicious in the house, it would be too risky. He didn’t expect to find anything pinpointing Ben to a murder regardless. There’s an old picture framed on the cabinet. Yet another older blonde woman, although she must be the same age then that Kathy is now, albeit with much bigger hair. Beside her is a younger boy, a round head, big glasses and a clunky hearing aid wrapped around his ear.

He looks nothing like the man standing across from him, yet he knows it’s Ben. He looks up from the photo, catching Ben’s eye before he quickly looks away.

‘I’m going to check upstairs,’ Whitney says, smiles politely to Kathy as she discards her empty mug on the tray. The other officers follow her.

‘I best get back to the caff, you okay here on your own?’

‘Fine, Mum,’ Ben says.

‘Okay, well, take care,’ she says to Callum.

‘You too, thanks for the tea.’ She smiles and leaves, both of them watching her go. ‘She seems nice,’ Callum says once the door closes behind her.

‘Yeah,’ Ben agrees without looking at him. An uncomfortable stretch of silence falls between them. Despite himself, he can’t help but fill it.

‘Ben, I-’

‘You almost finished here? I’ve places to be,’ he sniffs, finally looking at Callum. Callum stands straight, taking a step closer, resting a hand on Ben’s upper arm.

‘I know you didn’t do this, Ben,’ he says, quietly but earnestly. Ben just holds his stare. ‘Please.’

Ben parts his lips, looking as though he’s about to speak until footsteps begin threading down the stairs. He wordlessly takes the mug from Callum’s hand and carries the tray back to the kitchen.

‘Pointless,’ Whitney says, and Callum hums. ‘Nothing. Should’ve guessed.’

‘So, what’s next on the agenda?’ Ben calls as he returns from the kitchen. ‘Cavity search? Be happy to oblige,’ he says with a smirk.

‘We’ll be in touch,’ Whitney says humourlessly.

‘Suit yourselves,’ Ben says, raising his hands defensively. Whitney sees herself out, followed by the rest of the officers. Ben watches them leave, his painted-on smirk remaining. ‘What are you waiting for?’ he says to Callum, who hasn’t made a move. ‘Was kidding about that cavity search, ya know.’ Callum goes to speak but Ben interrupts him. ‘Go on then. Off ya pop.’

Callum nods, and for reasons he can’t quite explain, approaches Ben and pulls him in a for a kiss. He’s relieved when Ben reciprocates after a moment of reluctance. It doesn’t last long, but Ben moans into it as he parts his lips to let Callum inside. He breaks it knowing Whitney is waiting for him in the car.

Heart beating rapidly, he leaves without another word, not quite sure what just happened.

*

‘I don’t understand,’ Whitney groans, dropping her head onto the desk. Callum reaches over, pats her back reassuringly. She sighs. ‘Not a single match. On anyone.’

The killer _had_ left DNA, a match across all four bodies. None of it belonging to one Ben Mitchell. Whitney watches as Callum stands and approaches the board, rubbing off Ben’s name written in big red letters. He gives her a pointed look. She sighs again.

‘Square one.’

‘Not necessarily,’ Callum offers. ‘At least we know it ain’t him. One person off the list.’

‘Great,’ Whitney drawls. ‘I have more follow-up questions to ask him. God, I hate talking to him. I need a drink.’

Callum snorts.

‘Let’s get one.’ Whitney seems to perk up at that. ‘Could maybe do with one myself.’

‘Tonight?’ she asks, like she’s afraid he’s going to change his mind.

‘Done.’

*

Callum takes another swig of his beer, has had more than a few despite work in the morning, and can’t seem to remember how a couple of pints after work turned into a work night out in a club. Dave, Tina, Kheerat and Keanu had all joined, and even their intern Bex had been convinced to come along.

Whitney brought Leo, whom Callum had never met before. He seemed nice, if not a little awkward, not the bigshot lawyer he was expecting.

Dave had disappeared somewhere, Tina had pulled and hadn’t been seen since, leaving him sat next to Keanu who wasn’t the chattiest on the best of days. He downs his beer, offers to buy Keanu another one and makes his way across the dancefloor to the bar.

He feels good, despite work and other dramas. It’s been a while since he’s gotten dressed up in a nice shirt, and it’s just good to be _out_ nevermind drunk. His high spirits don’t last as long as the walk to the bar however when a body crashes into him. The person hits the floor and Callum stumbles backward, barely maintaining his balance in his intoxicated state, although he sobers when he comes to understand what’s going on.

‘I said I ain’t interested,’ Ben seethes, although his words are slightly slurred.

Dave pulls himself to his feet. ‘You were keen enough before.’

‘Yeah, well I ain’t no more so do one.’

‘Ben,’ Callum calls, catching his attention over the music. Ben looks at him and scoffs.

‘You stalkin’ me or summat? Can’t seem to get away from ya,’ he says, turning away into the crowd.

‘You okay?’ he asks Dave, who nods. He pats Dave’s back and follows Ben into the sea of people. ‘Ben!’ he calls, although the other man doesn’t stop or even acknowledge him. Another nudge from an overly-animated dancer almost sends him skyward for a second time, and when he collects himself he catches a glimpse of Ben heading for the exit.

The cool air of the night hits him like a truck when he finally makes it outside, and he may as well have necked another round of shots with the effect it has on his brain. He stumbles and spots Ben up ahead, calling after him. Ben actually stops and turns, and Callum’s relieved. That’s when he steps off the curb at a weird angle and suddenly he’s hitting concrete.

He groans, turning over onto his back, and that’s when Ben steps into view, not looking overly impressed. ‘Ben,’ he blinks.

‘Get up, you’ll catch your death,’ Ben says, attempting to lift him to his feet. Callum allows himself to be lifted, fisting Ben’s jacket to steady himself when he’s back on his feet. ‘You alright?’ Ben asks.

‘Yeah,’ Callum nods, still too intoxicated to feel embarrassed but he’s certainly sobered up a touch. ‘Hungry though, you hungry?’

‘Think maybe you should call it a night, Officer. Go find your friends.’

‘Nah, s’boring. Come on, I’ll buy you chips.’ He begins walking, manages to do it on his own, and notices Ben hasn’t moved. ‘Come on,’ he says, gesturing for Ben to follow him.

‘Go home, Officer,’ Ben says.

‘Come on,’ he says again, and it’s the most sober he’s sounded all night. Ben looks away squinting before sighing. Callum beams as Ben shoves his hands in his pockets and begins walking.

*

Callum does buy them chips, and they find a bench in an empty and dimly lit park to sit and eat them. They sit in companionable silence while they eat, both facing forward. Callum takes Ben’s empty bag when he’s done and discards the rubbish in a nearby bin.

When Callum sits back down again he sits at an angle to face Ben.

‘Thanks for the chips,’ Ben says. ‘We should probably get going.’

‘Why’d you kiss me earlier?’ Callum asks, mostly sober but feeling brave. Ben scoffs.

‘Think I remember it being the other way ‘round.’

‘But you kissed me back, though. Why?’ Ben sighs and levels him with a look. Callum just awaits a response. Ben stares back into the distance. There’s a long, heavy silence while Callum waits for him to say something. Ben swallows.

‘The other night you asked me why I sleep with randoms. I was with someone about three years ago. Paul. He was murdered in a hate crime.’ Callum inhales sharply. ‘Because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.’ Ben looks at him now. ‘Had I just ignored the names they were calling us he’d still be alive.’ Callum reaches out, grabs his shoulder firmly.

‘Ben-’

‘These murders. It’s like everyone I touch I ruin.’ A tear threatens to roll down his cheek.

‘It ain’t your fault.’ Ben laughs and it’s a bitter sound.

‘You should be running a mile,’ he says, deflated. ‘Any hook-up I have ends up at death’s door for their next shag. You could be next.’

Callum turns Ben’s head towards him. ‘Is that what this has all been about? Protecting me?’ Ben doesn’t answer, just stares with glassy eyes. Callum smiles. ‘Well, you’re forgetting two things, Ben. One, is that I’m no damsel in distress, I’m a police officer who can look after himself. And two, I ain’t shagging anyone else.’ He gives Ben a pointed look. Ben rolls his eyes, but there’s an edge of a smile curling his lips.

He curls a hand around the back of the other man’s neck and pulls him in for a kiss. He tastes of vinegar and salt but the kiss is sweet and they both pull apart with small smiles, just inches apart. ‘Not shagging anyone else, then,’ Ben says, seemingly back to his cocky self.

‘I like you, Ben,’ he answers earnestly.

‘Well, as it just so happens I’m off hook-ups I’m afraid,’ he teases.

‘That right?’

Ben nods, smirking.

‘Suppose we’ll have to go on that date then.’ Ben raises his eyebrows, makes a show of contemplating the idea.

‘Seems reasonable.’

‘Although there is one thing,’ Callum adds. Ben looks at him questioningly. ‘You still haven’t guessed my name.’

‘Callum Highway,’ he says, matter-of-factly. Callum gapes, ignoring the chill from hearing his name on Ben’s lips. ‘Was on the search warrant,’ Ben concedes.

‘Oi, that’s cheating!’

Ben laughs, leans in for another kiss.

*

Ben’s already sat down at the table when Callum arrives, a little on the delicate side after last night’s drinks. He’d like to be meeting Ben for that pint he’s owed, or maybe some food based on Callum’s current state, but instead the station’s interview room is their current setting. ‘Morning, Officers,’ Ben greets, a wry smile on his face.

‘Morning,’ he and Whitney reply in unison, both equally hungover, taking a seat across from the man.

‘We’ve ruled you out as a suspect, Ben,’ Whitney says, and actually manages to not sound too disappointed. Ben nods at them.

‘I believe apologies are in order,’ he tilts his head at her.

‘We’ve a lot of time to make up for, Ben.’

‘Maybe later, then.’

‘This doesn’t change the fact that there are currently four gay men who have all been murdered a short time after sleeping with you.’ Some of the humour leaves Ben’s face, and Callum swallows. ‘There’s a murderer on the loose, seemingly targeting your sexual partners and we need your help to prevent anyone else getting hurt.’ Ben’s eyes flick to Callum.

‘What do you need me to do?’

‘We ask that for the foreseeable future you cease any and all contact to potential sexual partners by any means, be it online or physically.’

‘Alright.’

She frowns at him, seemingly surprised, before catching herself. ‘Great,’ she splutters. ‘We also ask for your absolute honesty and co-operation should we have any questions or requests from you. This is a matter of life and death and some of our questions will ask for details regarding your private life.’ Ben nods simply.

‘We’ll need a list of previous partners,’ Callum adds. ‘Names, if you’ve got them, dates, locations.’

‘Will do my best,’ Ben answers, looking between them. ‘Anything else?’

Whitney looks to Callum, looking like a fish out of water. Callum shakes his head. ‘No, that’ll be all for now, Ben. If you could get working on that list as soon as you can and email it over to me that would be great.’

‘Will do, Officer. Pleasure as always,’ he winks. Callum nods back politely, ignores the butterflies in his stomach as an Officer enters to escort Ben out. Once Ben is gone Whitney gapes at him.

‘Am I dreaming?’ she asks, making Callum laugh. ‘Unpredictable as ever Ben Mitchell, following the orders of the Ol’ Bill.’ She laughs, a hysterical look on her face. ‘Oh, this’ll be fun.’

*

Callum knocks before entering the Car Lot. It’s dark apart from the single lamp on Ben’s desk. The man in question spins in his chair, a smug look on his face. ‘Got your text,’ Ben says. ‘This business or pleasure?’ he asks, hands behind his head as he leans back in his desk chair.

Callum takes a seat on the edge of Ben’s desk, his face conveying a grim mood. Ben sits forward. ‘Everything okay, Callum?’ Callum meets his eyes.

‘It’s ‘Officer’ actually, I’m here on business tonight,’ Callum says. Ben squints up at him. Callum sighs and stands, pulling out the cuffs. ‘Ben Mitchell I’m placing you under arrest.’

Ben’s eyes widen. ‘What?’

Callum takes his wrist, maneuvers the man to stand up and turns him around, cuffing him.

‘What are you doing?’

Callum turns him around again, pulls Ben close by his belt loops until their noses are touching. Ben’s breath hitches.

‘You have the right to remain silent,’ he begins, beginning to unbuckle Ben’s belt. A hungry smile spreads across Ben’s face. ‘Anything you say or do _will_ be held against you,’ he says, pressing their erections together.

‘Holy shit,’ Ben gasps, diving in for a kiss, moaning into it as Callum grinds against him.

Ben’s never been good at silence anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to the last chapter was honestly incredible and even though it's just a dumb fanfic the nice comments meant a lot! 
> 
> As always thanks for reading and if you liked it let me know in the comments!
> 
> Stay home and keep safe beauties x


	6. Chapter 6

Ben’s the first to cancel.

It was just drinks, Callum’s suggestion. Away from Walford. Ben’s suggestion. Callum’s gone and bought a new shirt. He’s wearing it when Ben texts.

_B: I need to cancel tonight I’m sorry! I’ll explain another time._

Callum sighs, disappointed, but also feels the knot of nervous anticipation in his stomach ease.

_C: That’s okay. Another time :)_

He sits and wonders what to do with his night off .

*

Callum’s next to cancel.

Work has been quieter, mainly paperwork and waiting on lab results. There’s no further leads in the case and no new evidence but there hasn’t been a body since “Tubbs”, either. They’re biding their time until something inevitably comes up; whether it’s a lead or a body remains to be seen.

Callum’s clocking off for the evening- on time, might he add- when Whitney enters looking ashen, a look he knows a mile off. He pulls out his phone.

_C: Possible new lead in the case, can we reschedule tonight?_

_B: Course. Keep me updated!_

A lead and a body can be one in the same.

*

Turns out it’s neither. A body? Sure. Their body? No. The first thing he does is crack open a beer when he gets in.

_C: False alarm._

Ben’s reply is almost immediate.

_B:Ffs!_

_B: But good I guess!_

He sinks into the sofa, turns on shit TV.

_C: You free tomorrow evening?_

_B: Busy! Night after?_

_C: Sure :)_

*

The night after, Callum presses his forehead against the bathroom door and groans, pulling out his phone.

_C: My brother split from his girlfriend. Again. He’s on my couch crying and dressed like Dracula idek._

_B: Intrigued but I can guess where this is going._

_C: I’m sorry. Please tell me you’re free tomorrow._

_B: I’m tied up all weekend, Monday?_

_C: I’m nightshift Monday to Saturday…_

_B: Next Sunday. No takebacks._

He sends a smiley face in return even if he’s disheartened by such a long wait. Stuart sobs from the living room and he groans again.

*

He’s eating a pot noodle for lunch at 3AM when Whitney drops her phone on her desk and sighs.

‘Alright?’ he asks.

‘Yeah, just Leo. Had to cancel dinner plans last night and he’s not answering me. Just hard finding a balance sometimes y’know?’ Callum nods, because he does. ‘Honestly, be grateful you’re single,’ she laughs.

He hums like he agrees, shoves a forkful of noodles into his mouth and spins his chair to face the other way. He has a text from Ben.

_B: Do you think Carole Baskin killed her husband?_

*

The week of nightshifts drag like never before. The rotation has him living to work, not to mention he’s on the opposite sleep cycle to Ben so their contact is limited. On Thursday Ben texts him _good morning_ and _goodnight_ in the same message.

Saturday evening does finally come along, the beginning of his final shift in an uneventful work week. The case has gone completely cold and despite his excitement for his date with Ben the following evening it’s hard to not feel disappointment in their lack of leads. He thought something would have come up by now, yet he doesn’t think it’s over, which worries him even more.

Even still, he’s grateful work has been slowing down. No excitement means no dead bodies.

He grabs two coffees from a MacDonald’s Drive-Thru, handing one to a glum-looking Whitney when he arrives at the station. She accepts it gratefully, looking tired.

‘Everything okay, darlin?’

She shrugs.

‘Think I’m going to end things with Leo. Just too much hassle.’

Callum puts a hand on her shoulder.

‘I’m sorry. Maybe it’s for the best.’ She nods along, looking frazzled as if she hasn’t been getting any sleep at all.

Otherwise, the shift is as dull as you like and come 8AM Callum’s practically running out the door. He tells Whitney to text him if she needs him, kisses her cheek, bins the stack of coffee cups he’s accumulated over the course of the night and drives home to get some much needed sleep.

*

He’s sweating. It’s 8PM and the taxi is on the way and nothing has gone _wrong_ yet. Neither of them have cancelled, in fact Ben text him an hour ago to say he’ll see him soon and Callum’s starting to think this date is actually happening.

His phone alerts him that his taxi has arrived and he wonders if it’s too late to change his shirt. He checks himself in the mirror, smooths a hand over his hair, wonders if a shirt is too much. Maybe a tee shirt is better? Would that look like he doesn’t care? Does he care too much?

Maybe.

The horn sounds from outside and he sighs, smooths a hand over his hair and grabs his jacket on his way out.

*

The journey into town is quietly chaotic. He tries to remind himself that he’s overthinking it and it’s just Ben, a thought that’s quite frankly counterproductive. The taximan doesn’t attempt conversation and he’s grateful. He’s also grateful for choosing dark colours. He needs a drink.

*

He orders a pint. Necks half of it without taking a breath. He hasn’t gotten a text from Ben, so he sends one to say he’s here. He takes another drink.

‘Come here often?’ a familiar voice asks, and his heart skips nervously. Ben appears at his side, leans against the bar with his elbow against Callum’s. ‘Only you look nervous,’ Ben smirks. ‘Meeting someone?’

‘Um,’ Callum frowns dumbly.

‘I am. Fit copper, actually,’ Ben says, looking around. ‘Don’t see him anywhere.’

‘I’m a police officer as it happens,’ Callum shrugs, indulging him. Ben makes a noise of approval; gives him a once-over and he feels himself squirm.

‘You’ll do, I s’pose.’

Callum rolls his eyes. Ben simply smiles, one of the rare, more genuine ones that stretch beyond a smirk. ‘Hi,’ he says.

‘Hi,’ Callum smiles back, more at ease already. Ben looks at his near-finished pint.

‘Another one?’

*

‘You look nice,’ Ben says when he joins Callum in the free booth he’d found, passing Callum his pint. Callum accepts it gratefully. ‘Never seen ya in your civvies before.’

‘Not often I get to wear ‘em. You’re honestly lucky I’m not in sweats.’ It’s a complete lie but Ben chuckles regardless. ‘You look good, too.’

‘I know,’ he smirks.

Callum rolls his eyes.

*

‘I didn’t know you had a daughter,’ Callum says, honestly dumbfounded by the picture of Ben holding a six year old.

‘Right little madam so she is,’ Ben smiles, swiping through another photo. ‘Takes after her dad.’

‘So, are you…’ he trails off. Ben raises his eyebrows, waits for Callum to finish. ‘Her mum.’

‘Oh,’ Ben laughs. ‘One night stand in my straight years. She lives with my Mum and her family on the square, too.’ Callum nods, can barely keep up with the Mitchell-Beale-Pearse situation.

There’s a lot to Ben Mitchell apparently.

*

‘What do you actually do for a living?’ Callum asks.

Ben considers him for a moment, squinting.

‘Are you Ol’Bill? Because you have to tell me if you are.’

‘I don’t, actually,’ Callum says sweetly.

‘I run a car lot. Anyone tells you anything otherwise it’s hearsay,’ Ben says, taking a drink.

*

‘What about _you_?’ Ben asks. They’ve drifted closer so that their thighs are touching and it’s nice. Ben has an arm over the back of the booth, his thumb resting against Callum’s shoulder and it sends a spark through him.

It’s been a long time since he’s had this kind of attention.

‘What about me?’

‘Feel like I’ve been chewin’ ya ear off all night, tell me something about you.’ Callum shrugs.

‘Not much to tell really,’ he laughs awkwardly. Ben rolls his eyes, albeit playfully. ‘Work takes up most of my time.’

‘Don’t I know it,’ Ben scoffs. Callum dips his gaze shyly, has always hated the scrutiny that comes with a first date. He doesn’t get to have much of a life outside of work and sometimes he feels it makes him sound dull. ‘Been worth the wait. This,’ Ben continues, gesturing between them.

Callum meets Ben’s eyes, slightly buzzed now that he’s several pints deep, can’t help the small curl of a smile on his lips. ‘Yeah?’

Ben nods, hooks a finger around Callum’s under the table and squeezes, letting go to grab his pint. Callum misses the contact immediately.

*

‘What do you mean you’re not sure?’ Ben practically squeals. Callum laughs openly. ‘Callum. Callum. Come on.’

‘Well, there’s no proof, is there?’

Ben laughs disbelievingly. ‘But the sardine oil!’ he whines. ‘She definitely fed him to the cats.’

‘All I’m saying is that there’s no physical evidence.’

‘Hopeless,’ Ben mutters into his pint, and Callum pokes him in the ribs for his efforts.

*

‘You’ve _never_ committed a crime?’

‘Never.’

‘Not even once? Not even a speeding ticket?’

‘No.’

‘Parking ticket?’

‘No.’

‘Sex in a public place?’

‘No!’

‘Never stolen a traffic cone on a night out?’

‘No,’ Callum laughs. ‘Why would anyone do that?’

‘It’s funny.’

‘You know people like you make life for people like me very difficult,’ he says pointedly.

‘Could say the same to you, Officer.’

*

It’s almost two when Ben declines another drink, which is probably a good idea. Neither of them are drunk but they passed the point of tipsy a while ago. They step outside, standing close, and Callum’s expecting Ben to call an end to the night when he nods his head for Callum to follow him.

‘Think I owe you chips,’ Ben says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

‘Oh, you don’t have to-’

‘So, you don’t watch chips?’ Ben interrupts him, nudging him with his elbow.

‘Well, I suppose if you’re offering,’ Callum shrugs with a smile. Ben hums.

*

They wind up in the same park as they did just a couple of weeks ago, albeit on a different bench. They sit at opposite ends facing each other. Ben crosses his legs while Callum stretches out.

‘Vodka or tequila?’ Ben asks.

‘Tequila.’

Ben scrunches up his nose, throws a chip at him. It bounces off Callum’s shoulder, who gapes at him.

‘Wrong.’

Callum throws one back which bounces off the top of Ben’s head, making himself laugh.

‘Littering in a public park, Officer Highway? Looks like I’m rubbing off on you,’ he says with raised eyebrows.

‘Closest thing you’ll get to it tonight,’ Callum says around another chip. Ben clutches at his chest.

‘As if I shag on the first date,’ he gasps, mock offended. Callum throws another chip. It misses. ‘Oi! I only threw one!’

*

‘Favourite ice cream,’ Callum asks.

‘It’s always about food with you, innit?’

Callum shoves at him, making Ben laugh.

‘Brunch. You?’

‘Twister.’

‘Exceptional taste as usual,’ Ben winks.

Callum hums noncommittedly, Ben shoves back at him.

*

‘When’s ya birthday?’ Ben asks.

‘March 25th.’

‘March 21st.’

‘I’m still older though,’ he says defensively, which makes Ben laugh.

*

They drift closer eventually, Callum lifting an arm over the back of the bench and over Ben’s shoulder, pulling him in. Ben leans into it, allowing Callum to catch his lips in a kiss. It’s softer than what they were used to, slower, but a welcome change of pace.

They sit like that for a while, Callum with an arm around the back of Ben’s neck, Ben with a hand cupping his cheek, just kissing. His heart flutters the entire time, his dick straining in his jeans, but it’s the most relaxed he’s felt in a long time.

They pull apart eventually, Ben catching his lips in one more chaste kiss before leaning away looking as dazed as Callum’s feeling. He looks gorgeous, lips plump and red. A small laugh escapes his lips, and Ben smirks.

He stands, holding his hand out for Callum to take.

*

‘Why are your hands so much bigger than mine?’ Ben asks him, their fingers intertwined as they walk through the dimly-lit park. Callum shrugs.

‘Could say the same about my-’

‘Yeah, alright,’ Ben mutters, attempting to pull his hand away. Callum laughs, tightening his grip until Ben eventually stops fighting it. He looks away, huffing, making Callum laugh again.

‘Kidding,’ he says, squeezing Ben’s hand. Ben squeezes back, still pretending to huff.

*

‘Favourite film,’ Ben says. They’re sat on a swing-set, both idly swaying side-by-side. 

‘The Notebook,’ he answers honestly. Ben crooks an eyebrow at him. ‘Reminds me of my mum. Haven’t seen it in years though,’ he says quietly. ‘You?’

‘Mad Max,’ he answers.

‘Why?’

‘Got cars, innit?’ Ben answers with a wry smile. Callum shakes his head, smiling back.

*

It’s only when birds start chirping in the trees and the sky is turning reddish that Callum checks his watch. ‘Blimey,’ he says. ‘It’s almost five,’ he explains when Ben looks over his shoulder at him.

‘Thinking of calling it a night? Or morning, should I say?’

Callum considers him for a moment. ‘I only live ten minutes away if you fancy a cuppa.’

‘That how you’re _luring_ me back to your place?’

‘As if I needed an excuse,’ he says pointedly, to which Ben just smirks.

*

The city is bathed in the hazy morning light when they reach Callum’s flat. ‘Casa de Highway,’ Ben says curiously as they take the steps up to his front door. He’s almost nervous, inviting Ben inside, it seems more intimate than anything else they’ve done. He tries not to think too hard on it as he opens the door and invites Ben inside. There isn’t much to look at, truth be told.

‘Not a hoarder, at least,’ Ben comments as they step into the living room.

‘I’ll stick the kettle on,’ Callum says, discarding his keys on the side table. ‘Bathroom’s down the hall if you need it.’

‘I’m good, thanks,’ Ben says, following him into the kitchen. ‘Your flat’s nice.’

‘Thanks,’ he answers, honestly feeling somewhat relieved that Ben likes his flat which he knows is ridiculous.

‘Well show us the bedroom then,’ Ben shakes his head at him. ‘I paid full admission I want the whole tour.’

‘Tea first, and maybe I’ll show you if you’re civilised.’ Ben zips and locks his lips shut, throws away the key. Callum rolls his eyes, carries the two cups of tea to the small kitchen table where they take a seat. They sit in silence for a moment, sipping their tea. ‘I’ve got biscuits,’ he offers.

‘I’m good, thanks,’ Ben waves. After a moment he smiles.

‘What?’ Callum asks.

‘I had a good time tonight,’ he says, sounding earnest.

‘Yeah,’ Callum nods, smiling back. ‘Me too.’ They both grin at each other before Ben’s face turns more serious. Callum watches him as he stands, and he once again holds his hand out for Callum to take.

‘How about that tour?’ he says, and Callum almost expects him to wiggle his eyebrows jokingly. Instead, Ben just stares at him, eyes intense, and it’s not long before he’s leading Ben down the hall to his room and closing the door behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like there isn't actually enough Ben/Callum interaction in this fic so I tried to base most of this chapter around their date which was supposed to be in like Chapter 3 or something but here we are in Chapter 6 lmao. Not sure how I feel about it, but I tried to capture that awkward flirty vibe of a first date as best I could so I hope y'all enjoyed?
> 
> As always thanks for reading and if you liked it let me know, comments are very much appreciated and encouraging :)
> 
> Stay safe huns x


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has it been 3 months or 3 days since the last update? Who can tell?

**1 Month Later**

‘No.’

‘Officer Highway,’ Ben sings.

‘ _Ben_.’

‘Officer Highway,’ Whitney chimes in.

‘ _Officer Dean_ ,’ Callum mimics.

‘It’s a good idea!’ Ben throws his hands up.

‘It’s not,’ Callum refutes. ‘Serious suggestions only, please.’

‘It is,’ Whitney winces, still not overly agreeable with Ben but trying all the same.

Callum presses his palms against his eyes, not dignifying Ben’s preen by acknowledging it.

‘You want to catch this chap by thinking like a criminal,’ Ben says, pointing a finger at his temple. ‘Alleged!’ he adds when Whitney levels him with a look.

‘So, what’s the plan then?’ he deflates, knowing he’ll regret not putting up more of a fight later.

*

Callum regrets not putting up more of a fight earlier. His phone pings with a text from Whitney.

_W: You could look a bit more excited._

He rolls his eyes, looks in his rearview mirrors for any sign of anything suspicious. Nothing so far. A Grindr message from BigBen_96 appears.

_B: Ready for you x_

He’s more nervous now than on his legitimate hook-ups with Ben. He takes a deep breath and gets out of his car, walking towards the dark car lot, feeling the weight of every step, feeling Whitney’s eyes on him from afar.

Ben blinks up from some paperwork when he enters, looking expectant.

‘Anything?’

‘Not yet. She’ll let me know if there’s anyone suspicious lurking around. Fuck, I hope this works.’

‘Well’ Ben stands, approaching him and leaning in seductively. ‘Better keep up the act just in case, yeah?’

‘I’m working Ben,’ Callum ignores him, checking his phone for any updates from Whit. Nothing.

‘All I’m saying is that if you don’t leave here looking absolutely shagged out of it it’s not gonna look realistic.’

‘That right?’

‘What can I say? Dedicated to the cause.’

Callum points a finger at Ben’s chest, slowly pushing him back against the desk. Ben eyes him hungrily, hard in his slacks. Callum leans in close, his breath against Ben’s ear. ‘Well then you better fuck me proper then.’

‘Who even are you?’ Ben says but hums into the kiss as Callum starts licking into his mouth.

*

‘I cancelled another date with Leo for this,’ Whitney groans, slouched at her desk.

‘I was against it from the beginning,’ Callum says pointedly. ‘What did we expect? That he’d just show up? Not like he’d know unless we had a stalker on our hands.’ He sighs. ‘How are things between you two?’

‘Was going good again until I cancelled. Bloke probably thinks I’m just messing him around.’ Callum considers him for a minute.

‘Do you think he’s copped on to us?’

‘Leo?’

‘No,’ Callum snorts. ‘Our killer.’

‘Like he knew we was coming?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Or maybe it really is over?’

Callum doesn’t think so. It’s not even until they’ve caught the bastard. ‘Maybe.’

Back to the drawing board.

*

‘Twice in one night,’ Ben pants, falling against him on the bed, sweaty and sticky and naked, face buried in the crook of Callum’s neck. ‘What’s gotten into you, eh?’

‘Dunno,’ he says quietly. Perhaps he’s releasing some pent-up frustration from other aspects of his life. Ben plants a kiss on his neck and sits up.

‘You hungry?’

‘Not particularly.’ His mind was in overdrive. Something just wasn’t sitting right and he couldn’t quite put his finger on what.

‘Earth to Callum.’ Callum blinks up at Ben, mind returning to the present, raising his eyebrows questioningly. ‘I said is everything alright?’

Callum rubs a thumb along Ben’s furrowed brow. ‘Yeah. You want to get food?’ Ben’s gaze is scrutinising.

‘You sure you’re alright?’

‘Yeah,’ he nods, keeping his voice light. ‘Chinese?’

*

They’re curled up on opposite ends of the sofa, Callum twirling his untouched noodles around the fork endlessly, staring at the tv without actually watching it. His stomach was full of dread. A hand grasps his foot and he jumps, nearly dropping the plastic dish, head snapping round to a concerned-looking Ben.

‘Something on your mind, babe?’

Callum shakes his head, discarding the container on the coffee table and standing. ‘Where you going?’ Ben calls after him as he walks down the hall to his bedroom. He’s moving on autopilot, slipping into a pair of runners. When he looks up Ben is standing in the doorway.

‘Going for a run.’

‘It’s 1AM.’

‘Need to clear my head.’ Ben nods, reaching for his shoes. ‘What are you doing?’

‘We’re going for a run,’ he shrugs.

*

It’s lashing rain, which doesn’t deter Callum, only Ben somehow manages to convince him to go for a drive instead- with Ben driving of course. They sit silently, nothing but the sound of the rain against the window filling the silence.

‘I feel useless,’ he admits, out of nowhere. Ben doesn’t answer, or acknowledge that he’s spoken at all really, which Callum’s grateful for. ‘It’s been _months_ , five young gay blokes dead and not a single step closer to finding out who the killer is.’ He shakes his head. ‘I’m a joke.’

A long silence falls between them, and Callum’s growing less and less grateful for Ben’s silence. He’s about to beg him to say something when Ben clears his throat. ‘You know when Paul died- when he was killed- they were just going to let them away with it. The boys that kicked him to death. We basically did the leg work for them. They’re behind bars now but had we not pushed and pushed and _pushed_ they’d still be out there. I’d have probably killed them myself by now,’ Ben says, his voice level but his knuckles white around the steering wheel.

‘Point is. _That’s_ a joke. A young gay man beaten to death and they’re not arsed to do nothing about it,’ he laughs, a high pitched noise that lacks any humour. ‘Then there’s you. Months into a case, no leads for weeks and not for a lack of trying, and you’re still trying. Because you actually care. Five young gay men dead and here you are fighting to get them justice when there are so many others who couldn’t care less.’ Warmth begins to replace the lead sitting in Callum’s stomach

‘And yeah, maybe he’s getting the better of you now but he’ll slip up. They always do. He knows what he’s doing, that’s all. But, so do you. You’re a damn good police officer, Callum. You’re a good person, a good policeman and a great boyf-’ Ben coughs, shaking his head. Callum’s heart pounds in his chest, can’t help the smile that spreads across his face.

‘A great what?’ he asks, looking over at Ben who keeps his eyes on the road.

‘You’re the detective,’ Ben says defensively.

‘Ben. Say it.’ Ben sighs, although Callum doesn’t miss the curl of his lips.

‘You’re a great boyfriend, Callum. If that’s what you want to be,’ he shrugs, and Callum feels himself beam out the passenger side window. There’s another beat of silence. ‘Well?’ Ben asks.

‘I think you’re a pretty great boyfriend too, Ben.’ Ben nods with a small smile, seemingly satisfied with that answer, hooking a finger around Callum’s and squeezing as he drives.

*

Ben drops Callum to work the following morning, kisses him goodbye with a promise of seeing him tomorrow night, and as Callum rounds the corner to Walford Police Station he wonders how this has become his life. Dating a Mitchell. Not quite what he predicted for himself at the beginning of the year.

He smiles to himself, hasn’t stopped all morning. ‘You know if the wind changes you’ll be stuck like that forever,’ Ben had teased over breakfast. Callum just laughed, didn’t think it sounded like such a bad thing. The grin on Ben’s face said he didn’t disagree.

Whitney gives him a once-over when he walks in.

‘What?’ Callum asks.

‘Nothing,’ she shakes her head, a wry smile on her face. ‘You just look like you’ve got the cream, that’s all.’ Callum shrugs as casually as he can. The subject of his relationship with Ben wasn’t something he was ready to approach yet, as bad as he felt about keeping it from her. With everything going on, it felt like the best option for the case. He would tell her after, as bad as he anticipates it going. ‘Boy stuff?’ she prods.

‘Case stuff,’ he beams.

‘Oh,’ she nods.

‘Got a few ideas I wanna run by you.’ Ben’s pep talk last night certainly rejuvenated his enthusiasm for the case. ‘I was thinking, what if Ben isn’t the link between the victims?’ She tilts her chin at him curiously.

‘There’s something missing. It’s just not sitting with me.’

‘Okay, well where do you want to start?’

‘Criminal records.’

*

There’s piles of paperwork strewn across both their desks, and it’s the busiest they’ve been in weeks. Despite the subject matter of the case, it’s nice to feel productive again. Making progress, hopefully.

‘We can start with the most obvious choice,’ Whitney grunts, dropping Tubb’s hefty folder on the desk. Callum takes the prison documents, mostly logistics stuff, reads through the parole applications, notes from the hearing. There’s an account of the prosecution causing a scene. He photocopies the page and highlights the paragraph, placing it in the pile of potential leads.

The afternoon turns into early evening, and Callum’s sat back with a marker hanging from his mouth reading about Tubbs’ conviction hearing. He’s surprised to learn that he hadn’t gone to prison for a dodgy job but for an accidental hit and run. Killed a father-to-be wh-

A ball of paper bounces off his chest. He glances up at Whitney who’s shrugging on her coat.

‘Where you going?’ he asks.

‘To get dinner,’ she answers with a laugh at Callum’s confused expression. He pulls his sleeve up to find that yes it is actually dinner time.

‘Wow,’ he says with a laugh. ‘Time flies when you’re having fun, eh?’

‘Not like you to forget to eat.’

‘Oi!’ he balks, throwing the ball of paper back at her.

*

‘Quite the record,’ Callum says around a bite of his burger.

‘Nuh-uh,’ Whitney protests, wagging a finger. ‘No work talk. Work-free zone, this is,’ she gestures around her car. Callum rolls his eyes. ‘Let’s talk about something fun.’

‘This _is_ fun.’

It was Whitney’s turn to roll her eyes. ‘What are your plans tomorrow night?’

‘Um,’ he answers dumbly in lieu of an honest answer. Telling a lie and not telling the truth are two different things is what he’s justified to himself, and sure, being a cop, he knows how that sounds. But he’d rather not lie.

‘Great, so you’re free then,’ she beams.

‘Well-’

‘We’re planning a double date and Leo’s got a friend.’

‘Good for him.’

‘A single friend.’

‘Right.’

‘A single, gay friend, Callum.’

‘That’s weird, so do you,’ he plays along. She’s nods at him as if encouraging him to put the pieces together. ‘Dave will be thrilled.’

‘Callum!’

‘Yes?’ he asks sweetly.

‘I’ve already told him you’re free,’ she replies using the same tone.

‘Whitney!’

‘What? It’s not like you’re busy.’

He scoffs. ‘You don’t know that!’

‘I do, you just told me,’ she flutters her eyelashes.

‘Before that!’ he yells, making her laugh incredulously. ‘I could have plans,’ he says, his tone defensive.

‘Sure, but you don’t. It’s okay to have a life outside of work ya know.’ He opens his mouth to argue before she cuts him off. ‘I mean the closest thing to a boyfriend you’ve got right now is Ben Mitchell,’ she laughs, and Callum joins her- albeit hysterically.

He stares at her, wide-eyed, opens his mouth to say it, just say it, just say it and a noise rumbles in the back of his throat before she cackles again.

‘Can you imagine?’ like it’s the most unbelievable thing in the world. He supposes it is. She wipes a tear from her eye, still giggling, and he dips his gaze to his burger which suddenly lacks all appeal. He plasters a smile on his face.

‘We should get back,’ he says, balling up the scraps of paper for the bin.

‘I suppose,’ she sighs. ‘His name’s Simon, by the way.’

Callum blinks at her. ‘Hm?’

‘Your date.’

‘No, no, I-’

‘Reservations are for eight,’ she interrupts him.

‘Whitney,’ he tries.

‘He’s an accountant. Tall and blonde. He’s nice,’ she chirps. He sighs, it all sounding terribly dull. ‘Not taking “no” for an answer,’ she says with finality.

He chews the inside of his cheek as she starts the engine. He wonders when he decided short, dark and unpredictable was more to his taste.

*

‘Sorry I just put Lexi down,’ Ben says in a hushed tone, and it warms Callum’s insides picturing him as a doting dad. He’s in bed for the night, smiling at the ceiling. ‘What’s up?’ Ben asks through the phone.

‘Nothing. Just miss you,’ he says, and Ben hums happily.

‘Soft. Ya saw me this morning and ya seeing me tomorrow, muppet.’

Callum huffs a sigh.

‘Something I need to tell you actually,’ he admits.

‘Oh?’

‘So, I was talking to Whitney earlier and um, well-’

‘Did you tell her?’ Ben asks, tone casual like it’s that easy.

‘No. She’s set me up with someone, actually. Some tall, blonde accountant.’

‘Oh,’ Ben says. ‘Right.’

‘I tried to say no but she wouldn’t accept it!’ Ben hums. ‘She’s booked a double date for tomorrow.’

‘Guessing I’m not making the guest list then,’ he says in a tone he hasn’t heard from Ben since they were nothing but cops and crooks to each other.

‘Ben-’

‘I get it, go on ya date, Callum. Wouldn’t want anyone feeling let down, would we?’

‘Ben, I’m-’

‘Lexi’s calling for me, I have to go. Have a nice time, yeah?’

With that the line goes dead, and Callum’s not sure what kind of reaction to that he expected, if he was honest. He considers calling him back, thinks better of it, wonders how he let this happen in the first place.

Perhaps he should just tell Whitney after all. Pondering the fallout following that conversation, he leaves his phone down and wonders how he’s supposed to make this right.

Sometimes it’s better to just be honest.

*

He comes to a decision.

_C: I’m going to explain everything to Whit._

Callum stares at the message, sent early this morning, and by the time he gets to work he still hasn’t gotten a response. He rubs his eyes tiredly as he finds Whitney at her desk, greeting her a good morning.

‘Listen, Whit. I appreciate what you’re doing for me, helping me find a date and that, but I really ain’t interested.’ Whitney cocks her chin at him.

‘Everything alright?’

‘Fine,’ he says shortly. ‘Just cancel for me. Please?’ She looks at him wearily but nods her head.

‘Ok. I’ll just call the restaurant and let them know. Are you sure everything’s okay?’

‘I’ll explain later,’ he sighs, busying himself by shuffling papers at his desk.

‘Hi, my name’s Whitney Dean, I’m just calling to change a reservation. Thanks, it’s a table for four under the name Leo Cameron.’

Callum’s head snaps up, quickly waving a hand to catch her attention. ‘Excuse me,’ she says to the person on the phone. She lifts her eyebrows expectantly.

‘I’ve changed my mind,’ is all he says, slipping some papers into his folder and rushing out the door with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading as always, please leave a comment and let me know what you think :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a bit creative with the timeline idk. There's time stamps but I've also made one of the timelines in italics so I hope it's easy to follow idk. idk.

**8:58AM**

_He comes to a decision._

C: I’m going to explain everything to Whit.

_Callum stares at the message, sent early this morning, and by the time he gets to work he still hasn’t gotten a response. He rubs his eyes tiredly as he finds Whitney at her desk, greeting her a good morning._

_‘Listen, Whit. I appreciate what you’re doing for me, helping me find a date and that, but I really ain’t interested.’ Whitney cocks her chin at him._

_‘Everything alright?’_

_‘Fine,’ he says shortly. ‘Just cancel for me. Please?’ She looks at him wearily but nods her head._

_‘Ok. I’ll just call the restaurant and let them know. Are you sure everything’s okay?’_

_‘I’ll explain later,’ he sighs, busying himself by shuffling papers at his desk._

_‘Hi, my name’s Whitney Dean, I’m just calling to change a reservation. Thanks, it’s a table for four under the name Leo Cameron.’_

_Callum’s head snaps up, quickly waving a hand to catch her attention. ‘Excuse me,’ she says to the person on the phone. She lifts her eyebrows expectantly._

_‘I’ve changed my mind,’ is all he says, slipping some papers into his folder and rushing out the door with them._

**7:38PM**

Callum checks his watch, hurries to throw a shirt on, makes sure yesterday’s jeans aren’t too dirty to wear so slips into them too. Runners will do. He doesn’t want to look like he’s trying. He books a taxi while brushing his teeth, slips a hand through his hair to makes sure it’s not too disheveled and waits by the door for the taxi to arrive.

He’s nervous about dinner- nervous about what will come of it. His fingers tremble by his sides, his back prickling with sweat. He gets up to go get a glass of water just as his taxi driver calls his phone. He sighs, grabbing his coat and heading out the door.

**9:24AM**

_Callum arrives at Walford library, pulls out the folder of paperwork and photocopies the entire stack. His phone pings, catching the attention of an elderly woman at the front desk who throws him a dirty look. He smiles sheepishly, quickly pulling out his phone._

_It’s from Whitney, and he can’t help but feel disappointed that Ben remains silent._

_W: Where’d you go???_

_C: Sorry I’ll explain later_

_He sets his phone to silent and slips it back in his pocket, grabs his photocopies and stuffs them into the folder._

**7:57PM**

Callum slips the driver a twenty and tells him to keep the change, steps out onto the street and steadies his breathing with a heavy breath, staring up at the restaurant. He’s nervous enough without having to entertain a date at the same time. He takes another few deep breaths and steps inside.

The waitress escorts him to the table, and he’s the first here. He orders a non-alcoholic beer despite the urge to order a shot to cool his nerves. A hand lands on his shoulder and he jumps, looking up at a very apologetic but handsome man.

‘Jesus,’ he gasps. The tall blonde clutches his own chest.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he laughs. ‘I didn’t want to be the first to arrive so I thought I’d have a drink at the bar,’ he explains. ‘You must be Callum.’

‘And you must be Simon.’

‘The very same.’ He extends his hand out for Callum to shake. ‘Nice to meet you, do you need a drink?’

‘I’ve got one coming actually, but thank you,’ Callum says politely. Simon takes a seat beside him at the table, and he itches to escape the whole situation.

‘Leo, fashionably late as always,’ Simon rolls his eyes, pulls out his phone. ‘I’ll tell him we’re here.’

‘Not so different from Whit, then.’ He thanks the waitress as he sets his drink on the table, takes a sip while Simon’s typing away on his phone. He’s a good looking bloke, he can’t help but notice.

Tall, wavy blonde hair and a jawline you could sharpen a knife on. Simon puts his phone face-down on the table, apologises. Callum waves it off and considers him for a moment.

‘So, how do you know Leo?’

**9:46AM**

_When Callum barges into Square Dealz, Ben’s with a punter. He pauses in the doorway as Ben meets his eyes for a long moment, stumbling over his words about a contract. Ben looks back at the punter, plasters on his salesman smile and ushers the man towards the desk._

_‘I’ll be with you in a moment,’ he says over his shoulder. Callum sheepishly closes the door behind him, waits in the kitchenette, leg bouncing._

_After a few minutes, the contract is signed and Ben shows the man outside to his new motor. Callum stands when he eventually returns straight to his desk without sparing Callum a glance._

_‘Unless you’re looking a new set of wheels I’m busy, Callum.’_

_‘Ben, listen-’_

_‘Don’t you have a date to get ready for?’_

_‘It’s not until eight,’ he says dumbly, and curses himself. Ben laughs without any kind of humour, focused on shuffling through paperwork that Callum’s not sure he’s even reading._

_‘So, you haven’t told her then?’_

_‘I ain’t interested in him Ben, that’s not why I’m going.’_

_‘Maybe it should be,’ Ben snaps, finally meeting Callum’s eyes. His stare is cold._

_‘What?’_

_‘Look it’s been fun yeah? Intense. But it doesn’t really go any further than that, does it?’_

_‘What does that mean?’_

_‘We’re too different, so just go on your date Callum, yeah? Find yourself a nice bloke.’_

_Callum just blinks at him, eyes stinging. Ben returns to his paperwork, face blank. He goes to say something, but the door swings open and a platinum blonde-haired woman steps inside, pausing at the sight of them._

_Callum takes that as his cue to leave, hurrying past her as he steps out into the fresh air. He doesn’t stop until he gets to his car, wipes away a tear and blows out a long, shaky breath._

_He allows himself a minute before he steels himself, pushing thoughts of Ben into box that he’s sure will unpack itself later. Right now, there’s work to be done._

**8:15PM**

Callum goes to the bar and orders another non-alcoholic drink.

‘Hitting it hard,’ Simon comments when he returns.

‘It’s been a long day.’

‘Work stuff?’

‘Something like that,’ he says vaguely. ‘Sorry, did you want another one?’

‘I’m good, thanks,’ Simon says, lifting his barely-touched gin and tonic.

‘Well, well, well,’ Whitney greets him with a hard stare. Leo simply nods, which Callum returns. ‘Look who it is,’ she says pointedly.

‘Could say the same to yourself,’ he smiles as casually as he can, tapping his watch. ‘You look nice.’ Her smile tightens across from him as she takes her seat. ‘What’s everyone having?’ he points at Leo. ‘Pint? Whiskey? Cocktail?’ he asks with a wave of his eyebrows.

‘Um- A pint is fine,’ he says looking to Whitney, both looking equally perplexed.

‘I’ll have the same,’ she adds without taking her eyes off Callum.

‘Long day at work too?’ Simon asks.

‘Something like that,’ she smiles politely, making Simon laugh.

‘Exactly what Callum said.’ Whitney’s eyebrows shoot up.

‘That right?’

Callum looks between the three of them. He nods simply, catches Leo’s eye, feels his forehead tingle with sweat. He takes another long gulp of his beer. ‘Where’s the waitress, eh?’

**2:18PM**

_Callum’s not sure what he’s feeling all over his body. He takes a sip of coffee, considers swapping it for a beer, decides against it. He needs a clear head for this. With a trembling hand he places the last piece of evidence down on his living room table._

_He pictured the moment it all fell into place many, many times. He imagined the relief, the satisfaction, the pride of finally putting an end to it all. It didn’t feel anything like what he expected._

_With a trembling hand he put the coffee down, feeling bile rise in the back of his throat._

_A knock on the door startles him._

_‘Callum?’_

_Whitney. He sits still, staring down at the evidence on the table._

_‘Callum! Are you in there?’ she calls, knocking again, louder and for longer this time. He almost considers opening the door. He doesn’t. And she eventually leaves._

_When he knows she’s gone he bends forward, links his fingers behind his head, exhales a long sigh._

_Fuck._

**8:39PM**

Callum’s never been a good liar. He can catch a lie pretty well, it’s his job after all, but when it comes to being dishonest well, he prefers to stick to half-truths and leave the lying to the crooks he catches.

That’s why he starts sweating when he comes out of the bathroom to find Whitney outside waiting for him with her arms crossed.

‘You alright?’ he asks without making eye contact.

‘Are _you_?’

‘Yeah,’ he answers in a pitch higher than intended.

‘What are you up to?’ she asks, and he scoffs.

‘What?’

‘You just ran off today.’

‘Yeah I had a family thing.’ He rubs the back of his head, meeting her eyes with a fleeting glance.

‘Right,’ she says, rolling her eyes. She turns to leave and he can’t help but reach out and grab her arm to stop her.

‘Look I’m just nervous alright?’ Technically, not a lie. Her face softens. ‘It’s been a while since Chris, ya know?’ She tilts her head sympathetically, eyes soft as he rubs his arm.

‘He likes you. I can tell.’

He nods, aches to just blurt everything out tell her everything and says ‘Start’s served’ instead. She glances over her shoulder at the waitress placing their meals on the table. ‘Don’t want it getting cold.’ He quickly darts towards the table, not giving her a chance to reply.

He thinks maybe it’s time to get this over with.

‘Good?’ he asks Simon, reminding himself he’s technically on a date here. He hums with his mouth full of prawn. ‘Good.’ Callum lifts a wing from his bowl.

‘Didn’t have you down a spicy kind of guy,’ Leo says.

‘Well, we’re not all as we seem, are we?’ he smiles, biting into the wing. ‘Wow, these _are_ hot,’ he gasps, waving his hand around for emphasis. His hand collides with Leo’s pint, knocking the liquid over into his lap.

‘Callum!’ Whitney cries as he and Leo both stand. He grabs the glass, quickly slips it into his jacket pocket, reaching out with his other hand to pat his shoulder.

‘I’m so sorry, mate,’ he says. ‘Such a spaz sometimes.’ Leo nods along, brow furrowed. ‘Let me get you a new one.’

‘Aye, least ya could do, _mate_.’

‘Again, so sorry,’ he says with a palm up. Leo locks eyes with him, a stare Callum holds back. ‘Let me get you that pint.’ He turns to Simon. ‘You want anything?’

**4:55PM**

_Callum’s sitting with nothing but the sound of the ticking clock on the wall to fill the silence, his head miles away. Another knock on the door pulls him back to reality. He doesn’t move to get up, figures it’s just Whitney back looking for him again._

_‘Callum?’ calls a familiar voice, catching his attention. ‘Callum it’s me, open up if you’re in there.’ He considers letting on like he’s not in, but he’s been so preoccupied with work that hearing Ben’s voice on the other side of the door has that box of emotions unwrapping itself and clouding any thoughts of the case._

_Ben keeps knocking and he can’t help but open the door, and suddenly Ben’s rushing in and he’s breathless and he reaches out, all thoughts of the case entirely out the window and all of his attention is on Ben and he’s never been happier to see him. ‘I’m an idiot,’ is all he says. Callum blinks at him dumbly, not quite sure what he was expecting. ‘I’m such an idiot.’_

_‘Ben.’_

_‘No, listen,’ Ben interrupts him. ‘Listen, right? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said earlier. Well, I did, but not in the way you think.’ Callum puts his hand on Ben’s wrist where he’s clinging on to his shirt. ‘We’re different, yeah? I mean I’m me and you’re you and we’re not really supposed to get along, are we?’_

_‘What are you on about?’ Callum asks, struggling to keep up with Ben’s rambling._

_‘I mean- Fuck. You’re too good for me.’ Callum shakes his head, opens his mouth to say something but Ben interrupts him yet again. ‘You’re a copper, a decent bloke who deserves better than someone like me. When you said he was some fit accountant I just thought “right, this is where he realises what he really wants and that’ll be it, won’t it?” That’ll be where you realise I’m no good for ya.’_

_‘Ben.’ Ben stops finally, taking a breath. ‘You are an idiot.’_

_‘What?’_

_Callum laughs, pulling Ben in for a kiss. He makes a surprised gasp before easing into it, and Callum’s pumped so full of adrenaline, and Ben’s here and before he knows it he’s pushing Ben towards the bedroom._

**9:00PM**

The meal resumes when Leo and Whitney eventually return, although the food is mostly cold and the atmosphere has all but died. Whitney has a painted-on smile and Leo’s not even trying to hide his irritation.

‘Got ya a pint.’

‘It’s not laced with anything, is it? Starting to think you have it in for me,’ Leo chuckles awkwardly. Callum smiles at the table. A moment of silence passes. ‘So, how is the case going?’

‘Ugh, no work talk please,’ Whitney groans into her drink.

‘Really well, actually,’ Callum nods, finally meeting Leo’s eyes, who seems surprised by his answer. He looks to Whitney, who seems equally surprised.

‘Oh, Whit said yous were having trouble.’ Whit shrugs, now on to a bottle of wine.

‘I’m not sure what’s going on anymore,’ she laughs, taking another drink.

‘I think we’re close,’ Callum says, nodding. ‘Very close.’

‘Glad to hear it,’ Leo says, drinking from his pint. ‘Maybe I’ll get this one all to myself when it’s done,’ he pats Whitney’s hand. Callum stamps down on something ugly threatening to come up to the surface.

The waitress appears beside them. ‘Now, who ordered the salmon?’

**5:30PM**

_‘So, you were just saying I was an idiot?’ Ben asks, running a hand up Callum’s back. They’re naked and tangled in Callum’s bed, his head resting on Ben’s chest. Callum hums. ‘Care to elaborate?’_

_‘That’s it really.’ Ben pokes a finger into Callum’s rib, making him squawk and flop around like a fish out of water. Callum grabs his hand, pulls it close to kiss it. Ben rubs his thumb along Callum’s cheek, smiling softly. ‘Don’t want no one else. I like ya.’_

_‘That right?’_

_Callum rests his chin on Ben’s pec, nodding. ‘A lot.’ Ben runs his hands through his hair, brushing the hair out of Callum’s eyes._

_‘Me too,’ he smiles._

_‘I need to go on this date, though.’ Ben looks away, hands dropping from his hair. Callum grabs it and holds it. ‘Ben,’ he says, catching his attention again. ‘I think I know who the killer is.’_

_‘Yeah?’ he sits up. Callum sits up with him._

_‘Yeah but I’m not 100% sure though. There’s something I need and I’ve got a plan, trust me.’_

_‘Okay,’ Ben says after a moment, and Callum pulls him in for another kiss, soft and slow. The kiss eventually breaks and Ben pulls away. 'What is it you need?'_

**9:45PM**

Callum pats the pocket of his coat, fingers curling around Leo’s pint glass under the fabric and glad this night is coming to an end.

‘Well, this was nice,’ Simon says, although he doesn’t sound like he truly believes it. Callum had honestly forgotten he existed for the last hour.

‘Yeah,’ Callum agrees, checking over his shoulder. A taxi pulls up. ‘Think that’s me then.’ Whitney pulls him into a hug, tells him they’ll be talking about this in the morning. He extends a hand to Simon who shakes it limply. ‘Nice to meet you.’ Simon nods, barely a smile on his face as he agrees.

He’s turning to leave when Leo pulls him into a hug too. He freezes, catches Whitney’s face over his shoulder mirroring his own confusion.

‘Thanks for the pint, mate,’ he grunts, letting go. Callum steps back, bids them a goodnight and turns towards the taxi. He breathes a sigh of relief, pats his pocket and his heart stops. He pats down the rest of his jacket pockets, glances over his shoulder, the others having already disappeared down the street.

He puts a hand on his forehead, his heart sinking into his stomach and he groans, light-headed as he passes the taxi and gets into the dark car parked behind it.

‘Did you get it?’ Ben asks.

Callum closes his eyes, head tipping back against the headrest, thinks of the pint glass with Leo’s DNA all over it.

‘No,’ he sighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, your comments are lovely and very encouraging so if you like it leave a comment and validate me x
> 
> Keep safe!


	9. Chapter 9

Ben sets a cup of tea on the desk in front of him. ‘What happened?’ he asks, taking a seat on the arm of Callum’s chair, squeezing his shoulder. Callum pinches the bridge of his nose, leans into Ben’s touch.

‘One second I had it, the next…’ He shakes his head. ‘He swiped it. Straight out of my pocket. He must’ve.’

‘And you definitely had it?’

‘Definitely.’

‘You know what this means,’ Ben says. Callum nods, sips his tea.

‘He knows he’s a suspect. Or at the very least he’s got something to hide.’ He holds up his mug. ‘Got anything stronger?’ Ben huffs, takes the mug and drinks from it, handing it back.

‘Probably not a good idea,’ he grunts as he stands, taking his seat at the other side of the desk. ‘What are you gonna do?’

Callum closes his eyes, shakes his head again. ‘I don’t know. What would you do?’

‘If I was _you_?’ Ben chuckles.

‘No. I mean, if the police were closing in and you knew it. Like early on when you were a suspect.’

‘I had nothing to hide,’ Ben reminds him.

‘What if you did?’

Ben considers him for a moment. ‘I don’t know, shag the fit the one,’ he shrugs with a grin.

‘You’re very funny,’ Callum tells him flatly.

‘Not wrong, though!’ He scratches his chin the way he always does when he’s in deep thought. ‘Is this off the record?’

Callum rolls his eyes. ‘I’m being serious, Ben.’

‘Right, sorry.’ He grabs the mug and takes another long drink, almost looking sheepish when he continues. ‘Me and my dad, we always have alibis ready. Don’t matter for what, we’ve always got a story up our sleeves. “We was here at this time, there at this time, no I don’t know what you’re on about.” That sort of thing.’

‘No wonder you’re all still walking the streets.’ Ben smiles brightly, like butter wouldn’t melt. Callum shakes his head, as endearing as he finds it, the limits of the law are frustrating. He swipes his tea back, takes another sip. ‘He’s prosecution.’

‘He knew what he was doing. I don’t get it, though.’

‘Get what?’

‘Why he’s a suspect. Why it’s only gays.’ Callum considers him. He never detailed anything to Chris regarding a case. Work and pleasure were black and white back then. He supposes those lines were well and truly blurred the day he fell for his prime suspect in a multiple homicide case. He sighs.

‘Tubbs’ trial, about the man he’d killed in a hit and run.’ Ben’s eyes dip to the desk. ‘There was an incident at the parole hearing. The prosecution weren’t happy with the outcome, things got physical, and their representative had to be escorted out. It was Leo. I didn’t realise until Whitney mentioned his surname. They’ve all got criminal records but there’s a lot to get through. I don’t know how it all links yet. I’ve no idea how sexuality is even a factor.’ He yawns, rubs his eyes tiredly.

Ben reaches across the table, squeezes Callum’s hand. Callum holds it. ‘You’ll figure it out. Maybe just get some rest for now.’ Callum pulls his hand away.

‘Whitney’s probably alone with him right now, I need to come up with a new plan before anyone else gets hurt.’

‘Are you going to tell her?’

‘I wasn’t until I had anything concrete. I guess I ain’t got much choice now.’ He laughs, devoid of all humour. Ben stands, rounds the desk and leans back against it, pulling Callum forward in his seat. His head rests against Ben’s belly, Ben’s fingers scratching the back of his head using both hands.

Callum sighs, wraps his arms around Ben and feels some of the tension in his body drifting away in waves.

‘We’ll sort it,’ Ben says, and after a moment Callum nods. ‘Get some rest first though, yeah?’ Callum pulls away, meets Ben’s eyes and nods again.

‘Yeah.’

‘Could stay in mine. If ya like?’ Ben shrugs.

‘Okay,’ Callum smiles, resting his head back against Ben’s belly. Bed sounds wonderful, but he’s not ready to move just yet.

‘So, was Simon fit then?’ Ben asks, and he can hear the smirk in his voice.

‘Fittest bloke I’ve ever seen,’ he mutters. Ben cackles.

‘I find that very hard to believe.’ Callum rolls his eyes.

*

The Mitchell-Beale-Pearse (and God knows what else) household are thankfully already in bed when they eventually leave the Car Lot. Callum’s grateful, he hasn’t met them out of uniform, doesn’t know if they’re even aware Ben’s seeing him, or seeing anyone for that matter. It doesn’t bother him if they aren’t, Ben’s keeping Callum a secret and Callum’s keeping Ben a secret. It works.

It’s unconventional to say the least, but it’s nice, living in their own little bubble. No outside interference, no pressure, just them in their own little world. It’s only a matter of time before it bursts, it can’t stay hidden forever, but he’ll take it for what it is right now. He’s dreading telling Whitney, the awkward family dinners with Stuart and Rainie.

Not to mention Ben’s family, which confuses him to no end.

Phil Mitchell, of whom he’s quite knowledgeable. A sister, several nieces and nephews, some of whom are even older than their uncle Ben, one of whom was murdered, another who was the murderer, a step-brother and a half-brother who’s twice his age running for Council. He dreads to think. The mother of his child who’s a Pearse but also a Mitchell (“It’s a long story, Callum”) and he has so many questions about that saved for another time.

Then there’s Lexi, the source of most of his anxiety when it comes to Ben’s family. Phil he can handle, but Ben’s daughter, he’s not so sure. Would Ben even want them to meet? Is he worried Callum might not want to? Would Callum even be any good with kids? What if she doesn’t like him?

‘Callum,’ Ben mumbles beside him in the single bed. He blinks back to reality, hums as he wraps his arm tighter around Ben’s waist. ‘I can hear you thinking.’

‘Sorry,’ he whispers.

‘S’alright,’ he says softly. ‘What were you thinking about?’

‘Um, nothing,’ he laughs awkwardly.

‘Work stuff?’

‘Nah, just- nothing, really,’ he answers. Ben squeezes his hand, begins tracing up and down his forearm.

‘Tell me.’ Callum swallows, curses himself for not just going along with ‘work stuff’.

‘Lexi,’ he says, cautiously. Ben’s finger stops in its movement along his skin. There’s a beat of silence where Callum thinks he’s gone and said the wrong thing. Their bubble is nice, why so eager to burst it? That’s when Ben turns to face him. It’s awkward, given the lack of space in the small bed, but in the dim orange light from the streetlamp outside he can see the curl of Ben’s lip.

‘Oh yeah?’ he asks, leaving Callum to elaborate further. He begins tracing patterns up Callum’s arm again, the ticklish movement giving him goosebumps.

‘What’s she like?’

‘Picture me but in pig-tails.’

‘Could do, actually,’ he quips, quietly yelps and flails when Ben’s finger digs into his ribs as punishment. Ben shushes him, but he’s laughing, pulling Callum back into his previous position. ‘I’d like to meet her,’ he says when he’s settled again. ‘Eventually,’ he adds. ‘There’s no rush.’

‘Okay,’ Ben says simply, like it’s that simple. Maybe it is, but he’s smiling through his long lashes and in the warm glow of the light outside he looks beautiful. He always looks beautiful. Callum’s got butterflies as he leans in and catches his lips in a kiss.

It’s chaste at first, until Ben’s lips part and Callum’s sliding his tongue in, soft and slow and sweet as it meets Ben’s. It’s been so long since he’s just kissed for the sake of kissing, neither of them looking for anything more, hands roaming but not quite touching, quiet moans of approval and it’s nothing but intimate.

Sure, he wants to meet Ben’s family, but he’s not quite ready for the bubble to burst just yet.

*

They’re quick to escape the Mitchell household the next morning. Callum wakes up late, having spent most of the night tossing and turning and it was just after 3AM the last time he checked his phone. The house is well and truly alive by the time Callum stirs, finding himself alone in the bed, to the sound of someone screaming.

Denny, he presumes from the pre-teen squeak in his voice, Ben’s step-brother curses out Mrs. Mitchell from the top of the stairs. Ben did say he was a little twat, although he said it with something like pride and Callum’s inclined to agree.

There’s a loud crash downstairs and the sound of Ben’s laughter booms throughout the house followed by the wails of a baby. ‘It’s not funny, Ben,’ someone yells.

‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ Mrs. Mitchell cries. ‘Go away, Ben,’ she scolds, but he’s still laughing as his footsteps skip up the stairs. The door opens gently, his head popping in first and he smiles when he sees Callum’s awake.

‘Morning,’ he greets when the door’s closed, approaching the bed. Callum sits up as Ben climbs on top to straddle him.

‘Morning,’ Callum yawns, and Ben flinches dramatically at his bed breath. ‘Sorry,’ he laughs.

‘I’m joking.’ Ben plants a quick kiss on his lips. ‘See?’

Callum hums, reaching out for his phone. ‘Time is it?’

‘Just after 10.’ The phone screen lights up, reaffirming it and Callum groans, sinking back into the bed.

‘You should’ve woke me.’

‘Thought it was your day off.’

‘I don’t really get days off, Ben,’ he says pointedly.

‘Ya need rest.’ The _duh_ is implied. Callum sighs. Ben shrugs. ‘Not that you’d get much in this house, anyway. But zero kip and an empty stomach is no good to anyone. Speaking of which, I’ll grab us some food from my mum’s café and we can make a move.’

‘ _We_?’ Callum asks with raised eyebrows.

‘Course. We got a mystery to solve,’ he grins with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

‘I’m gonna need a large coffee for this,’ Callum huffs, and Ben hits him with a pillow.

Luckily, Ben’s presence back downstairs causes enough of a stir in the family that they’re too busy arguing about Ben making a joke about something to notice Callum slipping out the front door.

He’d hate to see what a Mitchell wedding or Christmas entails if this is what a standard Thursday morning sounds like.

*

Ben meets him at the back gate, chuckling to himself at the faint sound of arguing from inside. ‘Too easy,’ gesturing dusting off his hands like it’s a job well done. Callum rolls his eyes.

‘We need to be quick, Ben.’

‘Don’t worry I text mum our order. I’ll go collect it if you wanna wait at the Car Lot?’

‘Okay,’ Callum nods. Ben pats his arm as he brushes past him, and Callum watches him go. His phone pings in his pocket, and he’s half expecting it to be Ben, who has a habit of texting Callum random thoughts throughout the day, even if they did just see each other thirty seconds ago. Instead it’s from Whitney.

_W: Some stuff we need to talk through. Coffee?_

He considers sticking his phone on silent and ignoring it for the day, but he knows she deserves better than that.

_C: Busy right now but this evening?_

She replies immediately.

_W: Ok._

He stamps down on the guilt he feels and makes his way to the Car Lot. He hates being distant, but he knows it’s better for her to not be involved for now. The less she knows right now the better, he knows from experience that personal feelings can cloud your judgement in cases like this.

Ben comes around the corner, carrying a large brown bag of food and two paper cups in a holder.

‘All good?’ he asks.

Callum nods, taking the cups from him. ‘All good.’

*

‘I don’t really know what I’m looking for,’ Ben says, flipping through the pages of a small booklet. He puts it back and pulls a different folder out of the box of evidence.

‘Neither do I,’ Callum says, writing the Leo-centric details of Tubb’s case on a whiteboard he’d invested in a few years ago for home brainstorming. He gestures to his writings with the marker. ‘Anything from the other victims that relates somewhat to these points. Their criminal records, solicitors, backgrounds, anything you can find. Even if it seems somewhat irrelevant.’

‘Gotcha,’ Ben nods seriously, opening up the folder and scanning pages. Callum pulls a different box out, searches for the details of a case involving Andrew McLaughlin, Ben’s original alibi. He had appeared in family court once over a divorced couple’s custody battle. Apparently he had been involved in an affair with the husband.

There’s no mention of any Mr Cameron in the notes.

He grabs another box, settles in for what’s probably going to be a long day.

*

‘What’s Leo’s surname again?’ Ben asks, staring hard at a document.

‘Cameron,’ Callum answers, sitting forward, intrigued. ‘You got something?’

Ben looks between him and the document. ‘Even if it seems somewhat irrelevant, right?’ He passes the document over to Callum, who inspects it for himself. It’s from a court proceeding several years ago. A rape case. The accused was described as a family man. His own son testified against him and in doing so accidentally caused a mistrial. He was their first murder victim. ‘Look at the names of the barristers.’

Callum’s eyes flick to the top of the page and listed is Mr Leo King. He grabs the document he had been reading earlier, skimming through the notes. There had been no mention of a Mr. Cameron but upon a second reading he finds Mr King listed.

They find several more court documents, each varying between his chosen surnames. Leo had represented the prosecution in cases involving every victim so far.

‘We’ve got him,’ Callum huffs a laugh in disbelief, staring at the whiteboard with the appropriate evidence pinned to it.

‘Is it enough to arrest him?’ Ben asks.

‘No,’ Callum shakes his head. ‘But it’s a start.’ Ben grabs his shoulders from behind, squeezing.

‘So, what’s next?’ Ben asks. Callum’s phone pings, and it’s only when he lifts it that he realises what time it is.

_W: Is now a good time?_

He sends her a short reply, including a time and a place.

‘Next I’ve to meet Whitney for coffee,’ he slips his phone back into his pocket. He turns to face Ben. ‘But I’ll see you after maybe?’ Ben smiles, nods and kisses him goodbye, and Callum’s in such a good mood he’s almost tempted to take a detour to the bedroom on the way out.

‘Should probably go be a good dad at some point today, anyway,’ Ben sighs. He leans in for another kiss. ‘See ya later.’ With that he’s gone, and Callum dips down to grab his shoes from underneath the couch.

The door clicks back open again, making Callum laugh. ‘What, need another kiss?’ he asks, tying his lace without looking up.

‘Ben?’ he looks over his shoulder, and for a brief moment he sees an image of him with his arm wrapped around his brother at Christmas two years ago, something that had been gifted back to him in a heavy, metal frame, as it made contact with the side of his head.

Everything goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thanks for reading, the reaction to every chapter is always amazing so leave a comment and let me know what you think :)


	10. Chapter 10

The hot white fluorescent lights are too bright when he wakes. He squints, huffing out a heavy sigh. His heavy eyelids close, and he feels himself drifting back to sleep.

‘Not time to get up yet,’ he thinks.

*

Beep. Beep. Beep.

He stirs, throws out his hand to turn his alarm off. Ben catches it, squeezes it in his grasp. Callum hums, content, forgets about the alarm.

Sleep pulls him back in.

*

The next time he wakes it’s because of the pain in his head. Slow, dull aches throbbing in his skull. He groans, sits up to grab some water and the pain becomes paralyzing. He collapses back against the pillow weakly.

A hand grabs his arm, his eyelids still unwilling to open.

‘What do you need?’ Ben’s voice echoes distantly, sounding so much like Stuart he’d laugh if he wasn’t in so much pain.

‘Hurts,’ he croaks.

‘I’ll go get the nurse,’ Ben says.

‘Kay. Love you.’

His alarm is still going off as he drifts away.

*

The next time he wakes he’s aware he’s not actually in his own bed. He blinks his eyes open, squints from the lights that are still too bright. He glances to the right, makes out Stuart’s sleeping form in the armchair next to the bed.

He lies back, confused and not quite able to put the pieces together. He furrows his brow, can’t quite make it all make sense. He yawns, mumbles something and closes his eyes for a second.

*

Ben gives him a little wave as he goes out the door, pulling it closed behind him. Callum feels a longing for him already, a feeling that’s become habit at this point.

He glances around for his shoes. He’s meeting Whit for coffee. Thinks that perhaps it’s time to fill her in on what’s been going on without her knowledge. He spots his laces sticking out from underneath the couch and kneels down to grab his shoes.

The door clicks back open and he laughs. ‘Want another kiss?’ he jokes, although Ben doesn’t answer. He glances up, doesn’t make out the dark figure standing over him. It doesn’t seem like it’s Ben at all.

He catches sight of his own eyes and Stuart’s staring back at him, a moment during Christmas dinner a couple of years ago frozen forever in the picture frame. It’s barely caught the side of his head when he gasps, jolting upright and sticky with sweat.

Stuart grabs him. ‘Callum,’ he says softly. Callum blinks at him, eyes darting around the room, and he realises where he is. The heart monitor by his bedside continues to beep regularly.

‘Stu,’ is all he can manage.

Stuart puts a hand on his shoulder, pushes him back against the pillows and Callum goes with ease. ‘It’s alright,’ Stuart says over and over, and his tense muscles begin to relax until he’s gone pliant. His brother’s hand remains on his shoulder, squeezing gently. ‘Okay?’

Callum nods, winces at the movement and feels the bandage around his head with his fingers. He looks at Stuart, confused. ‘Wh- What happened?’ he gasps, voice hoarse.

‘We was gonna ask you the same question, bruv,’ he holds a plastic cup of water to Callum’s mouth. He drinks greedily, swallowing the contents with ease. ‘Whitney found you in a pool of ya own blood. Someone knocked ya over the head with a picture frame. We didn’t think you was gonna make it,’ he huffs, rubbing his brow.

Callum releases a shaky breath, grabs Stuart’s arm. It was a lot to take in. ‘Do they know who it was?’ he asks, already knowing the answer.

‘I don’t know, I haven’t heard anything.’

‘I need to speak to Whitney.’ He feels the panic setting in, the weight of the situation like a cinder block on his chest and he suddenly can’t breathe. ‘Where’s Whitney?’

‘Bro, relax. She was here this morning, said she had something she had to do.’ He looks to the bedside table.

‘Where’s my phone? I need to call her,’ he tries sitting forward in the bed.

‘You need to relax,’ Stuart says firmly, holding him against the pillows. ‘We’re just glad you’re okay, how about we take it easy, yeah? She said she’d be back later.’ He attempts to push Stuart’s hand off his shoulder, can’t muster the energy to fight him off and collapses back, breathing heavy.

‘Fine. Fine,’ he wheezes. ‘Can I please just have my phone?’ He levels Stuart with a hard stare, who holds it right back. After a moment he nods tightly, pulling Callum’s phone out of jacket pocket and passing it to him.

There’s several texts from Ben that he skips over, dialing Whitney. She answers on the second ring.

‘Callum?’ she asks cautiously.

‘Whitney!’ he yells, almost hysterically.

‘Oh, my God, are you alright?’ she breathes.

‘Whitney, I need to see you. I know who attacked me, I need to see you.’

‘Callum,’ she says heavily. ‘We’ve already got him in custody.’

‘W- W- What?’ he stammers out.

‘We fucking have him,’ she says, almost gleefully. ‘I need to go, we’re about to interview him.’

‘Who?’

‘Ben fucking Mitchell.’

The line goes dead.

*

Callum’s hands tremble as he lowers the phone from his ear, a tight smile on his face. He looks to Stuart, slightly wide-eyed.

‘Alright?’ he asks.

‘Do you think you could get me something to eat?’

Stuart nods, looking unsure, but agrees to drive to the McDonald’s around the corner and sneak him something in. Callum gives it a minute before he starts unhooking himself from the machines, is thankful to find a duffel bag with some of his stuff underneath his bed with a change of clothes.

He slips into a hoodie, wears it up over his bandage and opts to take the stairs down to reception. His head aches with dull pulses, and this is probably a bad idea, but it’s time to put an end to this.

He keeps his eyes on the floor as he walks out the front doors, rounds the corner and finds a taxi outside.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do exactly. He can hardly bust into the interview room and declare Leo as his attacker. Knowing Leo, there’s no evidence to suggest he was there. He’s guessing the evidence against him in the flat has been taken too.

He puts his palms against his eyes. He’s fucked this so badly. Involving one of your suspects in the investigation side of your case isn’t exactly commendable. Neither is establishing a secret relationship with them. Nor keeping your partner in the dark. He could almost laugh.

His phone rings, he doesn’t need to check the Caller ID to know it’s Stuart. He sends a quick text.

_C: I’m ok._

He slips his phone back into his pocket.

He throws the taxi man a twenty when he pulls up outside the station, tells him to keep the change and bounds out of the car. He’s rushing towards the front door when the automatic doors part and Ben emerges.

They both stop, about ten feet apart, staring at each other like idiots. His face is closed off, unreadable. For a second, Callum is confused, then Phil appears over Ben’s shoulder. Phil meets his eyes and holds his gaze.

‘I’ll just be a minute,’ Ben says quietly. Phil doesn’t look away, just nods at Callum, his face just as unreadable. Callum nods back, and after a moment Phil turns and leaves. When he looks back at Ben he’s standing closer than he was before.

‘Hi,’ he says, but Ben makes no move to come any closer. He can see the mask slipping, but Ben’s mind will always be more readable than his face. ‘I know you didn’t do this, Ben. It ain’t your fault,’ he says, and suddenly the mask is gone and it looks like Ben’s about to break even though Callum’s the one in bandages.

Callum is the one that moves, pulls him into a hug, and after a moment Ben reciprocates. Like he finally has permission to do so. They cling to each other, Ben’s face in his neck and Callum’s hand in his hair. It feels like an age passes before one of them speaks.

‘You should be at the hospital,’ Ben says softly.

‘Thought I’d come bail you out.’ Ben pulls away, eyes glassy but he’s smirking.

‘You know me, always have a trick up my sleeve.’

‘Like “We was here at this time, there at this time, no I don’t know what you’re on about.” That sort of thing?’

Ben smiles innocently, and Callum rolls his eyes. The dull ache in his head is now beginning to throb, and it must show on his face because Ben sobers, putting a hand on his cheek.

‘You should get back to the hospital,’ he says, and Callum shakes his head, immediately regretting the movement.

‘Nah, there’s some stuff I need to sort out. It’s long overdue, I think,’ he squints. Ben nods, not looking convinced. ‘How are you?’

Ben scoffs. ‘You’ve had your head bashed in and you’re asking how I’m doing?’

Callum shrugs.

‘Well, my boyfriend almost died. His partner wants my head on a plate and all fingers are pointing at me because-’ He laughs humourlessly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. ‘I’ve got priors when it comes to using picture frames as weapons.’ He looks away. They’ve never mentioned Heather in each other’s company before. He’s seen Ben’s record but knows he’s come a long way from the person he used to be.

Callum reaches out, squeezes Ben’s arm. Ben shakes his head.

‘I’ve got the perfect boyfriend though, so I’m not bad all things considered.’ He looks back with a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. ‘I should go, my dad’s waiting.’ He attempts to pull away until Callum’s grip tightens around his arm.

‘Ben,’ he says, and Ben stills, his eyes glassy again. Callum pulls him closer with ease, but he knows it’s only because Ben’s allowing it. Callum kisses him, it’s wet, and open-mouthed and messy and Ben hums into it. He bunches his fists into Callum’s hoodie, places a hand on the back of his neck to hold him in place and Callum lets him lead it, lets him take what he needs right there in front of the station.

When it breaks Ben presses their foreheads together, and they’re both gasping.

‘I need to go,’ Ben pants.

‘Okay,’ Callum whispers. ‘I’ll see you later, yeah?’

‘Please,’ he answers softly. Callum gives him a small smile, which Ben returns, looking more sure of himself now. Ben steps aside, glances over his shoulder one last time as he goes.

Callum looks towards the station and meets Whitney’s eyes.

She crosses her arms.

*

He follows her into the station, ignoring the looks from other officers as they make their way to one of the interview rooms. She closes the door behind him.

‘Whitney,’ he begins, but she holds up a palm to interrupt him before gesturing at a chair. He sits. She takes a seat across from him.

‘Ben Mitchell,’ she says, opening a folder. ‘Ben Mitchell’s fingerprints and DNA were found all around your flat. Several eyewitnesses spotted him in the area at the time of the attack. We traced his phone, which proves that he was there for about six hours yesterday. He’s linked to every death in our case so far, and yeah he has an alibi from his _dad_ but that doesn’t fly with me. Not to mention the assault weapon. Just days after we staged a hook-up, in line with every other victim in our case.’

Callum sits silently.

‘And yet,’ she laughs. ‘There you are _kissing_ him right outside the station.’ She laughs again, bitter and angry. Callum just stares at her. ‘This is the part where you tell me what’s going on because clearly I’ve been missing something here.’ She closes the folder over and throws it in the direction of the bin in the corner.

‘He’s innocent,’ he says after a moment. She puts her head in her hands. ‘You wanted an explanation. This is it.’ She sits up, looks him dead in the eye.

‘Go on, then.’

He tells her everything.

*

‘This is a fuckin’ joke,’ she stands, eyes watery as she turns away. ‘The whole time, behind my back?’

‘I’m sorry,’ he says weakly. She levels him with a look.

‘You know what, Callum? You’ve jeopardised this entire case. How much time have we wasted looking into him when we could’ve been looking somewhere else? You’re lucky it was me that saw you today because if it was Jack Branning you’d be writing your resignation right now.’

She chews on her fingernail.

‘Ben _Mitchell_ ,’ she sighs, sitting back down. ‘Why didn’t you just tell me?’

‘It wouldn’t have mattered.’

‘Of course it would’ve,’ she argues. He looks away, can’t quite meet her eyes knowing what he’s about to say next. ‘What?’

‘I think I know who the killer is,’ he says after a long pause. She balks at him.

‘Well, feel free to fill me in, Callum.’ He looks away, his fingers tapping lightly on the table. He’s head is pounding.

‘Leo,’ he says, meeting her eyes again as her brow furrows in confusion. ‘I think it’s Leo.’ She blinks at him, just staring, and despite his discomfort he doesn’t look away. There’s a long silence as she stares through him, her eyes wet and face distant. Eventually it settles on a look of resignation.

She sits back in her chair. ‘Tell me everything.’

He does.

*

She stands and lifts the folder off the floor, pulling out the crime scene photos. She slaps them down onto the table. A shot of the living room confirms what he’d previously thought. The evidence board against Leo was missing following the attack.

One of the photos shows the pool of blood and his stomach turns. It’s quite a lot more than he was expecting. He pushes the photo away, the pain in his head returning to the dull ache from before.

‘We need a DNA test,’ she says.

‘I’ll come with you,’ he grunts, standing. He stumbles, lightheaded, and she reaches out to steady him as he regains his balance.

‘I think you’ve done quite enough,’ she says. He dips his head and her face softens. ‘I’m sorry. Let me take you back to the hospital. I’ll be fine.’

‘Okay,’ he says, but he doesn’t like it. ‘Are you okay?’

She nods once, face steeled and hiding any emotions. She’s always been able to switch in and out of work mode. ‘I’m fine,’ she says. ‘Let’s go.’

*

He’s dizzy as they walk across the car park. Perhaps coming here wasn’t the best idea after all. She holds onto him, keeping him steady as they approach their car. He almost trips over his own feet when Leo appears before them, stopping them in their tracks.

‘Leo,’ Whitney greets him casually.

‘Everything alright?’ he steps closer, reaching out to take Callum’s weight off her. He wraps an arm around his waist. ‘Let me,’ he grunts. Whitney unlocks the car door, keeping Leo in her sight. Callum stumbles as Leo guides him forward, his head splitting. Suddenly, he feels exhausted.

‘Why don’t you get in the back with him? I can drive,’ he suggests.

‘It’s illegal, you can’t drive a police car.’

‘He needs you,’ he pushes, nodding towards Callum who can barely keep his eyes open. She swallows, finally nodding after a long moment and hands over the keys. ‘Jump in and I’ll pass him in to you.’

She gets into the car, holding her hands out to take Callum, who’s legs are now ready to give up on him. He reaches out, just as Leo slams the door shut.

‘Leo!’ she calls, pulling the handle to no avail. She bangs on the window as Leo releases Callum from his grip. With legs like jelly, he hits the concrete, barely registering the fall. In his haze, he watches as the car speeds away before he passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking that this is gonna be about 12 chapters long so maybe 2 more?
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	11. Chapter 11

Callum eyes slowly drift open, and it’s almost peaceful. The sky is orange fading into pink, red wispy clouds floating overhead. A bird flitters off a tree branch swaying in the gentle wind. Distantly, there’s a low rumble of traffic, and he could probably lie here forever. It’s nice. How did he get here again?

Then it hits him and his stomach flips like he’s suddenly in a nosedive.

He jolts up, wincing with the pain in his head and he curses, pressing his palms against his temples, grinding his teeth through the hot flash of pain. ‘Fuck,’ he grunts, the muscles in his back, legs and arms tight and aching from the concrete.

He attempts to push himself to his feet, stumbling back onto his elbows and he cries out as more thunder roars through his skull. He lets out a wet sob, dropping his head back. The branches above sway in another breeze, multiplying- doubling, tripling- in their movement. He drops onto his back, gasping for breath, the world spinning and combined with the pain it’s far too much.

He turns his head and vomits, retching a thin stream of this afternoon’s water intake onto the ground. He inhales a long breath of air as he wipes his mouth with wet fingers. He holds his hand in front of his face, painted red with blood where it was held against his temple. He wipes his wrist over the same spot of bandage and it comes back smeared in red.

‘Fuck,’ he whimpers.

He pats his trouser pockets down and finds them empty. He can’t help the tear that runs down his face. Leo must’ve taken it.

‘Fuck.’ He scrunches his face up, clenching his jaw as he pushes himself into a sitting position. He needs to get up. He lifts a pebble as he braces himself. Spit runs down his chin as he hisses through the pounding in his head. He makes it to his feet, stands on the spot for a moment, staring at the distance between the parking spot and the front doors. He’d never make it.

He tightens his grip on the small stone in his hand, eyes the red convertible parked in front of him. The wind is almost enough the blow him over, but he let’s himself stumble forward. With all the energy he can gather he lifts his hand holding the stone, lets himself fall against the side of the convertible and manages to crack the window with the stone.

The alarm cries, headlights blinking as he crumples against the side of the car and waits to be found.

*

It doesn’t take long. One second he’s blinking up at Dave from reception and the next there’s a paramedic hoisting him onto a gurney.

‘Whitney,’ he says, but they just look at him like he’s talking gibberish. They strap his legs down, and he limply attempts to wave them off. ‘He’s taken Whitney,’ he slurs, and to his own ears it _is_ gibberish.

He mumbles something incoherent, blinking and suddenly he’s lying in the back of the ambulance. ‘Please,’ he tries, reaching out for the paramedic but he’s constrained. She flashes a light in his eye, says something that he can’t understand and he’s apologizing as the too-bright lights all go dark.

*

He’s lucky to be alive, he’s told.

He scared the shit out of his brother, he’s told.

He’s flagged as flight-risk, he’s told.

Officers are coming to take his statement, he’s told.

Whitney’s been missing for 36 hours, he’s told.

This is all his fault, he tells himself.

*

He gives his statement, presses the officers for any information about Whitney but they tell him nothing. He doesn’t like the way they look at him or talk to him, and as they’re leaving he wants to swing for one of them.

He takes a deep breath, tries to convince himself that he’s being irrational but can’t. Remembers irritation is a side effect of a concussion and itches to smack himself around the head for getting himself in this situation.

He steadies his breath, chest heaving. It’s been almost two days and Whitney’s still out there and he’s never felt more useless. Wherever Jonno is right now, he’s laughing at him. He tries not to think about the statistics in cases like this.

He must drift off again, because the next time he opens his eyes he’s caught off guard by Ben slumped in the armchair by the bed. He glances up from his phone as Callum startles.

‘Afternoon, Officer,’ he says serenely. He slips his phone into his pocket and sits forward, a sad smile on his face as he reaches out and twirls their fingers together.

‘You scared the shit out of me,’ Callum huffs, and Ben’s lips curl into their usual cheeky demeanor.

‘Sorry,’ he says through his lashes, his other palm up defensively. ‘Wouldn’t want anyone scaring the shit out of the other. Twice in two days,’ he says pointedly, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

Callum squeezes his hand. ‘Right. Sorry.’ Ben laughs quietly.

‘I’m kidding, you muppet. Kind of,’ he shrugs. ‘S’just nice to have you back in the land of the living.’ Callum looks at him then, noticing how Ben’s grin has become a tight smile, his eyes humourless.

‘Hey,’ Callum says, wiggling their combined hands to catch his attention. Ben finally looks at him, and he’s only just noticing how tired he looks, how _sad_ he looks. ‘I’m alright.’ After a moment Ben nods. ‘Come here.’

Ben gently curls against Callum’s chest, and it’s awkward and uncomfortable with the angle and the machines hooked up to him but Ben sighs contently when Callum starts playing with his hair so he’ll allow it.

‘Haven’t slept in days,’ Ben admits, mumbled against Callum’s neck. He tightens his arm around Ben’s waist.

‘You should get some rest.’ He plants a kiss on the top of Ben’s head and hears the other man let out a small chuckle.

‘How is it that you always end up taking care of me, eh?’

‘That’s my job isn’t it? Protect and serve?’

Ben leans up on his elbow then, a tired but happy smile on his face. He catches Callum’s lips in a kiss. It’s short but sweet, tender in a way that Callum’s heart feels like it’s going to explode and he’d be embarrassed to be hooked up to a heart monitor right now.

‘I like you, Callum Highway.’ He can’t help but smile back.

‘I like you too, Ben.’

‘ _Like_ like?’

Callum rolls his eyes. ‘I’ll see.’ Ben grins, hoisting himself back to his feet.

‘What if I said I’d buy you lunch?’ he asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

‘Now we’re talking.’

*

On the fifth day they discharge him. He’s relieved as Ben wheels him to the car but there’s a knot in his chest that’s been growing tighter and tighter as the days go by. Stuart bought him a new phone, which he checks every five minutes to make sure he hasn’t missed an update. Jack said he’d let him know when they find anything.

They found the car yesterday, parked somewhere by the river. There was nothing to go on, but it was something. The first 48 hours of a missing person case are the most vital. The more time that goes by the lower the chances are that she’ll be found safe.

He just wanted to be out there helping.

‘Come on, you big tree,’ Ben grunts, helping Callum to his feet and wrapping his arm around his neck. Maneuvering Callum into the car was one thing but getting up the stairs to his porch was another. His body was tired and aching and his head was already woozy with all the movement.

By the time they get into his flat he’s tired, cranky and he’s got a strong urge to smash something against the wall. He’s wound up, has been for days now, and he needs something to blow off some steam.

‘I need to go back to the gym,’ Ben pants, taking a seat next to him on the couch. Callum doesn’t answer, feels something itch under his skin, something ugly, and his fingers tremble with it. ‘You alright?’

He closes his eyes, knuckles clenched and shaking, feels ice in his throat and he exhales, long and slow. The water bubbling over the rim of the pot simmers. ‘Fine,’ he lies. ‘Think I’m gonna lie down for a bit.’

‘Okay,’ Ben says, standing with his hand extended for Callum to take.

‘I can stand myself.’ Ben rolls his eyes.

‘I actually meant for you to come with me but okay.’ He drops his hand back to his side. Callum rubs at his forehead, which is no longer bandaged the whole way around but instead has a large plaster over it.

‘Can you come back later please?’

His tone is colder than he meant, and he sees the faster-than-lightning shift in Ben’s face from humoured to hurt to masked. He just nods, scratches at his chin, eyes dipping. ‘Yeah. See ya later then, yeah?’

‘See ya,’ he says, and Ben looks at him expectantly before his face shuts down entirely, leaving without another word. As soon as the door clicks shut he exhales, falling back against the cushions.

He knew that wasn’t fair, and now that Ben was gone he’s filled with regret. Truth be told, he knew he wouldn’t make it to the bedroom by himself. He eventually falls into a troubled sleep.

*

When he wakes it’s already getting dark, the low sun casting long shadows across his flat and he feels irrationally paranoid that someone’s going to step out from one of them. He reaches out for the lamp and illuminates the room, feeling no less on edge. He wants Ben, feels guilt curling in his chest when he remembers how he treated him earlier that afternoon.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket. There’s no updates from Jack nor any text from Ben, the latter of which he deems fair enough.

He calls Ben who answers on the second ring.

‘Ben, I’m really sorry,’ he blurts out, can’t help it. Can’t help but make things right.

‘You’ll have to tell him in person,’ says the voice on the other end of the line. He’d recognise the northern twang anywhere. Callum swallows.

‘What have you done?’

His stomach does a somersault, the knot twisting ever-tighter.

‘Nowt,’ Leo answers. ‘I’ll text you the address. Don’t be long. And don’t involve the police, yeah?’

The call disconnects, leaving Callum staring at the phone in awe. The screen flashes with a text from Ben’s number. He stares at the address, bile rising in his throat and he feels himself moving quickly, far too quickly, and he barely makes it far enough to catch his balance against the front door.

He pulls it open, forces himself to push forward, catching hold of the handrail on the porch. He stares at the steps down to the street as they spin and twirl and multiply in his vision. After almost slipping down the whole flight on the second step, he slides down on his arse like a toddler.

He pulls himself to his feet and resists the urge to vomit.

*

When he pulls up to the address it’s not quite what he had expected. It’s East London, not very far from Albert Square. An old townhouse with another flat down some stairs that looks like it hasn’t been lived in for some time.

He’s just glad he’s made it here in one piece.

He stumbles across the path, holds himself steady on the iron railings and sighs because _more stairs_. He finally makes it to the bottom- still on his feet this time, and he’d be just about ready for another nap if not for the current circumstances. He’s surprised by how calm he is, probably from the exhaustion more than his confidence in handling the situation well.

‘Took your time,’ Leo says and it startles him. He blinks into the shadows concealing the entrance to the flat, can just barely make out the lines of Leo’s face in the darkness. ‘Come on in.’ Leo’s voice is calm, steady in a way that Callum doesn’t like. He steps inside, holds the door open for Callum, who steps forward slowly with nothing to hold to keep himself upright.

He steps through the threshold and sees Ben and Whitney both sat on opposite sides of the room. Ben’s wrists are handcuffed around the pipe of a radiator, a large purple bruise surrounding his right eye. Whitney looks unharmed, although streaks of mascara are stained down her cheeks. Her hands are tied behind her back. They’ve both got cloth in their mouth.

He makes eye contact with Ben, who shakes his head.

Leo’s foot hits behind Callum’s knee and he hits the ground with ease, barely avoiding yet another head injury. Whitney attempts to protest while Ben lunges forward, face twisted and red with rage.

Callum attempts to push himself up on his elbows and this time he can’t help it when he vomits on the wooden floor. He slumps back on the ground, head and eyelids heavy and he feels unconsciousness creeping up on him. He wants to pass out, can feel his body embracing it until Leo grabs him by the collar and yanks him up onto his knees.

Ben shouts something inaudible.

‘You can sleep soon, Callum, but not just yet.’ He drags Callum back against a wooden beam in the centre of the room. To his right, Whitney’s crying. To his left, Ben looks like a lion ready to pounce. ‘There’s still things to do.’

‘Why?’ he barely manages, head tipping back against the beam.

‘Because we both know the justice system ain’t fair, Callum.’ Leo laughs, gestures to Ben. ‘Prime example, here.’ Ben cocks his chin at him. ‘I got justice for my clients. Those people were killers. Homewreckers. Divorcees. Destroying families left, right and centre and getting away with it.’ Callum dips his head forward, meets Leo’s wide-eyed gaze. It stretches for miles.

‘Father’s taken away from their families for other people’s crimes. Getting _murdered_. Nah. Not on my watch. If you ask me they got what they deserved.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Callum wheezes. Leo blinks at him. ‘Why only the gay ones?’

‘Ah,’ Leo grins. ‘At least there’s something you haven’t figured out. It wasn’t planned, at least not from the beginning. I knew Ben had shagged the first one before I killed him. The third one- Andrew, I think- he was just a coincidence. And then Tubbs. Well, once I heard Tubbs was up for parole it all just came together. Pin it on Ben Mitchell, one of the worst criminals in the city. See how well Daddy gets him out of that one. Most of them weren’t even gay. The Grindr profiles were fake.’

He looks to Whitney, who shakes her head at the ceiling and he wants to throw up again.

‘Keep your enemies close, eh?’ he smirks, tilting his head towards her. He feels a fiery rage rush through his veins and he manages to push himself to his feet using the beam to steady himself. ‘Oh, do me a favour,’ Leo laughs at him. Callum pushes forward and Ben’s attempting to shout something again but Leo steps back, lets Callum swing and miss and he catches Callum’s crumpling form in his arms before shoving him back. His back hits the beam and he groans, sliding back down to the ground.

‘We’re almost finished, Callum, don’t worry. You just have to decide who dies next.’ Callum blinks up at him, shaking his head limply. ‘I’m thinking Whit. Sorry, love,’ he shrugs at her. ‘You’re a lovely girl so we’ll make it quick. I want us to take our time with Ben, have a little fun along the way.’

‘Please don’t,’ Callum says weakly.

‘Don’t worry, you’ll be joining them soon after. I’ll be the only one leaving this building alive. Sole survivor of a looney cop and his murderous boyfriend on a killing spree. Even killed his own partner to stop it all coming out.’

‘You won’t get away with it,’ Callum scoffs. ‘You’re too sloppy.’ Leo whacks him across the jaw with the back of his hand. Ben yanks on his cuffs desperately. He spits blood on the floor next to him. ‘See?’

Leo laughs, steps closer and pulls him back to his feet. He stumbles, but Leo steadies him. Ben starts pulling at the radiator more ferociously and Leo huffs.

‘You know what? We’ll just do you first,’ he says to Ben, dragging Callum by the elbow. He kicks Ben back, making him lose his grip and he tumbles onto his back. Leo pulls Whitney’s gun from his pocket. Callum’s legs turn to jelly and he tips back but Leo catches him, barely holding him up.

Ben stares up at them, eyes wide and desperate and Leo puts the gun in Callum’s hands. Callum attempts to push him away, wills himself for strength but his body won’t comply. It can’t. He’s barely got his eyes open but he attempts to wink at Ben, hoping to God he notices. His head falls back against Leo’s shoulder as Leo forces his hands around the grip.

He laughs.

‘What’s so funny?’ Leo barks, and their fingers are hooked around the trigger now. He clicks the safety with his middle finger.

‘You wanted to see how well Daddy gets him out of this one,’ Callum chuckles.

‘What?’ Leo stammers.

Ben’s head snaps towards the entrance and he manages to sound out the muffled word ‘Dad’. Leo quickly spins them both on the spot, the gun still pointing outwards, and Callum sees stars with the movement. They aim the gun at the doorway, the false presence of Phil Mitchell nothing but a distraction where Leo finds just empty space instead.

He blinks. ‘I don’t understand-’ Ben kicks his foot out at the back of Leo’s knee and he crumples. Callum falls with him and hits the ground hard. Leo lands with the gun still in his hand and aims it at Ben. Callum watches on as Ben winces, turning away.

Leo pulls the trigger and the gun clicks.

‘Safety’s on,’ Callum mumbles, and manages to keep himself propped up on his elbow long enough to see Leo’s face transition into panic as Whitney appears from behind. Her foot connects with the side of his head and he ragdolls onto the wooden floor.

Callum sighs as he slumps onto his back. There’s movement, and then suddenly Ben and Whitney are kneeling over him.

‘Let’s go, Officer,’ Ben grunts, both he and Whitney pulling him to his feet and wrapping his arms over their shoulders. They manage to get him to the car eventually, Whitney opting to stay behind and wait for the police.

Ben takes him to the hospital. As they drive, Callum looks at him, head lolling to one side. Ben glances over quickly, takes his hand and kisses it, continuing to hold it as he drives. ‘Hang in there,’ he says softly. ‘It’s over.’

Callum’s eyes flutter closed, happy to finally let go.

It’s over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, the melodrama
> 
> just one more chapter to go!
> 
> thanks for reading :)


	12. Chapter 12

**May**

There’s a lot about Ben that Callum loves. The way his eyes light up when he thinks of something dead cheeky to say. The way his lips curl into a smirk when he says it out loud. The cackles when he knows he’s gotten under Callum’s skin and he bites back.

The way he’s so comfortable with Callum, so much so that he just lets himself into Callum’s flat instead of knocking. The way he pops round unannounced just to say hi. It feels like he’s always here.

He loves the way Ben carries on like normal when Callum becomes forgetful, or dizzy with a headache, or when he’s irritated. He lets Callum have his moment, waits for Callum to approach him about it when he’s ready. The way he likes to make sure Callum’s getting enough sleep and has enough to eat.

He loves that Ben loves him too. They haven’t said it out loud, but he’s sure of it.

**August**

Callum goes to the fridge and grabs another beer, fumbles to get the cap off in his inebriated state. He stumbles back to the living room, taking a swig from the bottle as he sits. A runnel of liquid escapes from his lips, and he wipes the rough stubble on his wet chin. He sinks back into the cushions, staring distantly into the darkness of his flat.

He can’t remember the last time he opened the curtains. He takes another long drink of beer.

His phone pings. Another random on Grindr looking to get off quickly. He’s not unattractive, but he’s not what Callum’s looking for. Callum doesn’t know what he’s looking for. He thought it would bring him some peace, logging on and seeing Ben’s profile active again. It didn’t, mainly because in the weeks that he’s redownloaded the app he hasn’t once seen Ben online.

He takes another mouthful of beer, wonders how things ended up like this. Life didn’t exactly return to normal after everything.

In hindsight…how could it?

**June**

He’s forced on leave following Leo’s arrest. ‘Go get yourself one of those lives I keep hearing about. You’ve earned it,’ Jack says proudly, planting a hand on his shoulder. They never did tell him about his relationship with Ben. Callum can’t lift his eyes off the floor, forces a smile and mutters a thanks.

‘And for God’s sake, keep yourself out of hospital,’ he calls as Callum lets himself out of his office. He just keeps walking.

*

He sees Whitney the day after the arrest. She visits him in the hospital, bringing him chocolates from the gift shop. Ben’s sat at his bedside and they nod at each other in a civil manner. She doesn’t stay long, just stopping by on her way out having been admitted overnight herself.

She’s also forced on leave that same day. When Callum is discharged three days later he hadn’t heard from her. He still hasn’t, has even called by her flat a few times but she never seems to be in. Her number is temporarily deactivated a short while later.

She hasn’t resigned so he knows it’s only a temporary absence but he misses her desperately. Nights when they’d spend the evening together, eating ice cream and takeaway watching old Murder, She Wrote episodes and trying to guess who the killer is.

He prefers catching them on the TV.

Ben reassures him, tells him she’ll be back eventually, but his heart longs for her. It breaks for her. He doesn’t know where she is, visiting Bianca and the kids maybe, or travelling across Europe, chasing some kind of high after almost dying.

Wherever she is, he hopes she’s happy. Recovering.

*

Callum’s recovery is slow. Two concussions will do that to a person. The same doctor that tended to him on his first two hospital trips tends to him on the third visit, and she literally rolls her eyes when she sees Ben wheeling him in following the arrest. They fear he might have Second Impact Syndrome. It’s not as bad as that. ‘You’re lucky to be alive,’ says literally everyone.

Yeah, he gets it, thanks.

But why doesn’t it feel like it?

As exhausted as he feels, and as fond as he was of passing out on a regular basis while concussed, he doesn’t sleep. He closes his eyes, and in the beginning he genuinely tries but eventually closing his eyes just becomes a routine to placate Ben until the other man falls asleep beside him.

He opts for A Touch of Frost, one of his gran’s old boxsets that he inherited at some point. He watches until the sun comes up, and that’s how he spends most of his nights. It sucks him in, mind racing looking for clues, trying to solve the case before the episode allows for all of the pieces to fall into place.

He could keep up well enough, but he’d often find his brain unable to focus and he’d forget the clues too easily. It frustrated him.

‘What’s this?’ Ben mumbles sleepily one night, appearing from the bedroom rubbing his eyes. Callum startles, completely engaged with the events unfolding on the screen, and he snaps at him for sneaking around. Ben furrows his brow, holding his palms up, returning to bed cursing under his breath about it being 3AM and _go to bed, Callum_.

Callum ignores him, rewinds his show back a minute so he doesn’t miss anything.

He’d been doing that a lot. Snapping. At Stuart. Ben. Himself. He supposes it was around then that the cracks started to show. They’d been innocent, Ben’s comments. He’d smirk as they’d leave his lips. About his height. His big feet. The amazing shag they had the night before and _what’s gotten into you lately_ because Callum liked it rough now. More than usual, at least.

They’d dig at him, though. Chip away at him like a pickaxe in a mine. That’s the thing about mining. Sometimes you struck gold, and he’d bounce back with a comment to match Ben’s sarcasm, and it would be bright and shiny and priceless. But more often than that you’d unearth a piece of coal. Dark and dry and _burning_.

Ben steps back like he’d just been burned, eyes wide and glassy. Callum didn’t care. Ben was fishing and Callum bit. He’d accidentally hit Callum’s head with the cabinet door while reaching for a glass, smirked as he blamed Callum for being Stretch Armstrong in lieu of an apology and before Callum could help himself he was throwing the frying pan with their stir-fry against the opposite wall.

‘Get out,’ he’d snapped, and Ben did, leaving him standing on the spot in the kitchen clenching and unclenching his fists.

Deep down, he knew it wasn’t Ben’s fault. Ben was being Ben, and the cabinet door had barely touched him.

Doctor Long had told him there’d be consequences to being so reckless towards his health. ‘Head injuries aren’t like broken bones,’ she’d told him, and he barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Anger was one of them. Most of the time he’d feel normal, at ease enough to go about his day and play Ben’s games.

It was always there, though, itching under his skin like a thousand spiders trying to crawl to the surface. It never really went away. He’s starting to think it never will.

It was the crux of their final few weeks together, although they managed to push through the dinner incident.

Forgetfulness was another side effect. Not just when he was struggling to follow the TV, but when he ruins his dinner by putting yet another serving of salt on his food because he forgets he’s done it twice already. Or when he takes a shower and steps out to grab a fresh towel and it’s already damp from the shower he’d taken an hour ago.

Those were just the little things. Some little things really were just little things, but some little things were big things, actually.

‘How was your day?’ Callum asks, looking up from where he’s been scrolling through his phone. Ben looks at him softly.

‘Walked Lexi to school this morning and had the deadest day at work I’ve ever had which is why I’m here so early,’ he says, and it sounds rehearsed. It sounds almost tired. He rubs at his forehead, feels his fingers tremble with embarrassment and rage and he levels Ben with a look when he tells him it’s _okay, Callum_.

‘How many times?’ he asks, his tone terse. Ben sighs.

‘You’ve already asked me twice.’

Callum exhales a shaky breath, can feel the way the edges of his mouth curl into a bitter frown and he can’t help it when he starts spewing words like fire and his tears are hot when they spill down his cheeks when he cries, ‘So, you’re just gonna let me sit here repeating myself like a parrot?’

Ben frowns at him, hands clasped together in his lap and his eyes are sad when he looks at him like he’s done something wrong _again_ when he hasn’t. He hasn’t done anything wrong at all, it’s just Callum’s stupid head fucking with him and he slaps himself hard on the temple. Once, twice, and the third swing is cut short when Ben catches his wrist and pulls them both onto their knees on the carpet, Callum’s head falling onto his shoulder and Ben’s hands are in his hair and he’s hushing him softly as Callum finally breaks open.

They sit like that for a long time, even when the tears stop coming and Callum’s breath stops hitching. Just being there with his eyes closed in Ben’s comforting embrace, his fingers still running through Callum’s hair.

When they finally pull apart he tells Ben he’s sorry. That he’ll do better. He means it.

**July**

Callum does do better. He’s still forgetful, still feels a bit woozy every now and then, the odd migraine here and there. But he’s good. He feels good.

‘Because I can’t remember the last time I saw ya without a bottle in your hand, that’s why,’ Ben tells him, and this time Ben’s crying. Callum laughs. The sound is disgusting even to his own ears. ‘You’re not supposed to be drinking.’

‘And you’re not even supposed to be here!’ Callum shouts, and it’s slurred. ‘We agreed we’d meet on Saturday so why are you here?’ Ben looks at him, stunned. ‘You’re always here. In my flat. In my bed. In my _face_. Just fuck off,’ he hurls the bottle in Ben’s direction.

It misses him, it wasn’t Callum’s intention to hit him, but it does soak him in beer as it skims past him. Ben’s on him a second later, fists in Callum’s hoodie and he’s snarling like he’s never seen before. Callum blinks at him, his lips curling in an ugly smile and Ben’s face changes.

He lets Callum go, and Callum stumbles back a step.

‘I’m done,’ Ben says, shaking his head. He scratches at his chin, eyes darting in every direction but towards Callum. ‘I just can’t do it anymore.’ He raises his palms out, and Callum wobbles on the spot. ‘I’m done,’ he repeats, barely audible, and Callum watches him go.

The door is hardly closed behind Ben when Callum realises the weight of what he’s done, and he’s darting after him. His foot slips on the discarded bottle and before he can regain his composure he’s tumbling backwards onto the sofa where he lies in a daze.

What was he doing again? He can’t remember.

*

Ben comes back the next day. He knocks the door this time instead of just letting himself in like he usually would so Callum’s surprised when he finds him standing on his porch with his hands in his pockets.

‘Is this okay?’ he asks awkwardly, referring to _being here_ and Callum feels the sting of what he’d said yesterday all over again.

‘Of course,’ he answers but Ben says nothing, just waits for Callum to step aside to allow him access. He looks around the flat when he enters.

‘It’s clean,’ he comments, nodding with approval. ‘Looks nice.’ He looks at Callum, who’s wearing jeans and a shirt and it’s the first time in a long time that he’s in anything but tracksuits or pyjama bottoms. ‘You look nice,’ he says seriously.

Callum dips his head, a small smile on his face. He steps forward, puts a hand on Ben’s arm and looks him in the eye when he says he’s sorry. Ben purses his lips, face defensive and eyes tired. ‘I’ve applied to go back to work,’ he continues, just to fill Ben’s silence. ‘Have an assessment on Monday.’ Ben nods. Callum opens his mouth to say something else- anything else to outrun the silence, but his voice catches. ‘Please don’t give up on me,’ he chokes, eyes on the floor.

Ben’s arms quickly wrap around his waist and neck, and he holds Callum close enough to kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear.

‘Never.’

*

Callum cooks them dinner, promises to keep the frying pan on the hob this time and Ben laughs like he’s not sure he can. Later, after they’ve had dinner, Callum offers Ben a beer, and his heart flutters when Ben takes the beer from his proffered hand and plants it down on the coffee table, instead taking Callum’s hand and leading him to the bedroom.

‘I love you,’ Callum tells him for the first time, when he’s deep inside Ben and rolling his hips slow and sweet and Ben’s gasping quietly underneath him.

Ben pulls him down for a kiss, and it’s soft and wet and equally slow and he thinks this is what making love looks like.

‘I love you too, Callum,’ he breathes, and it’s not long before he’s tipping over the edge. He takes Ben with him.

*

Callum doesn’t remember the drive home from his assessment with Jack Branning. He’s not lucid when he steps through the front door, and it’s not until he hears Ben call _babe?_ from another room that the reality of it all hits him.

He lifts the coat rack, a sturdy piece of wood that feels weighty in his hands. He nods appreciatively of the feel of it. Ben steps out from the bedroom.

‘Babe?’ he asks, his tone uncertain. ‘How’d it go?’

Reality hits him hard, and the anger that’s been bubbling under his ribs finally boils over. He lets it take over.

Callum laughs mirthlessly and swings the coat rack along the top of the hall table. Framed photos and knickknacks hit the ground and, fuck, it feels good. He swings it again, knocking the router across the room and his key bowl smashes into pieces, joining the glass fragments of the frames on the floor.

Tension he didn’t know he’d been holding pours out of him and he laughs again, only this time he _does_ find it funny. He throws the coat rack and it collides with the TV, knocking it off its stand. The lamp goes next. When he’s done, he can’t tell if he’s laughing or crying but there’s tears running down his face and Ben’s just staring at him with a blank expression and that just makes it even funnier.

‘I failed,’ he manages, and it sobers him almost immediately. ‘I failed,’ he repeats, quieter this time.

*****

He tries to call Whitney, gets the same message telling him that the number is temporarily unavailable. He spends long days lounging around the house, listless and wondering what the point of it all is. What’s the point in a career when it peaks for you at 28? He’ll never get a case like it again.

If he ever gets another case again.

Ben’s there. Physically. Mentally. Ben’s always there. Ben’s perfect. Perfect little Ben with his perfect little life.

‘Stop,’ he says, through gritted teeth, but he can’t.

‘Embarrassed of me, is that it?’ Callum goads him, knowing what he’s doing and he can’t help himself. ‘That why you won’t let me meet her?’ The empty bottle falls by his feet and screams against the kitchen tiles.

‘No, Callum.’ His chest is rising and falling rapidly now. Callum knows exactly what he’s doing when he brings up Ben’s daughter.

‘Then why?’

‘Because you’re a mess!’ Ben screams. ‘Because I don’t want her anywhere near you! _I_ don’t want to be anywhere near you!’

Callum knows there’s no turning back from this conversation, decides to just put it in fifth gear. ‘Then fucking go.’

Ben goes.

To his credit, he really tried.

**August**

Callum finishes the end of the bottle, perfectly numb and sedated enough that he considers answering the random on Grindr. He doesn’t. Can’t.

There’s a lot about Ben that Callum learned to hate. The way his eyes lit up when he thought of something dead cheeky to say. The way his lips curled into a smirk when he said it out loud.

The way he was so comfortable with Callum, so much so that he’d just let himself into Callum’s flat instead of knocking. The way he popped round unannounced just to say hi. It felt like he was always here.

He hates the way Ben carried on like normal when Callum became forgetful, or dizzy with a headache, or when he was irritated. He’d let Callum have his moment, would wait for Callum to approach him about it when he was ready. The way he liked to make sure Callum was getting enough sleep and had enough to eat.

He hates that Ben loves him too, because Callum’s 28 going on 29 and he knows well that love is never enough.

He hates that he can’t even convince himself that he hates all of those things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love a bleak ending :)
> 
> Full disclaimer: this is the intended ending, but I'll do one more chapter to wrap it up a bit nicer lol
> 
> Leave a comment and let me know what you think!
> 
> Thanks for reading x


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter ;)
> 
> aka 5 times Ben's hands are forced behind his back and the 1 time he does it willingly.

**1**

‘Maybe I’ll see you again?’ his one-night-stand suggests, standing on the back porch. He can’t even remember the other man’s name, nor how he even ended up back here.

‘In your dreams, mate,’ he smiles tightly, stepping back to close the door over but the other man suddenly grabs him by the collar and he gasps into the kiss he’s dragged into. It’s too messy, too wet and too much tongue for this level of hangover this early in the morning. It’s desperate.

‘Definitely,’ the other man says, and he can barely refrain himself from rolling his eyes as he closes the door in his face. He sighs, pours himself a coffee and is mulling over his plans for the day when there’s a knock on the front door.

He doesn’t move to answer it, but he soon hears it open.

‘Phil!’ Sharon screeches in a pitch he’s sure attracts dogs. Ben abandons his coffee on the table and steps out of the kitchen to find two police officers at the door and _hello_.

One of the police officer’s eyes meet Ben’s and he’s _gorgeous_.

‘Actually, we’re not here for your husband, Mrs. Mitchell,’ the other officer says, the words barely out of her mouth before he’s cursing under his breath and racing out the back door.

What he’s running from, he’s not sure, but when he cackles over his shoulder at the tall and dark one pursuing him through the market he thinks maybe he wants to be caught.

He is.

**2**

He gets pulled into something by his dad, another job for Danny Hardcastle. He’s less than impressed, especially when the police turn up and one of Danny’s boys kicks off, leaving him on the wrong end of a pistol whipping.

Before he can pick himself up there’s a knee pinning him to the ground, his hands pulled and cuffed behind his back. The officer pulls him to his feet, and he spins around and smirks at the sight of Keanu.

‘Officer Taylor. Pleasure as always.’

Keanu rolls his eyes. ‘You’re lucky it was me,’ he tells him flatly, but Ben spends the night in a cell regardless for being “drunk and disorderly”. Keanu’s way of one-upping him, he imagines.

He jolts upright from his sleep the following morning as the heavy cell door swings open. ‘Go,’ Keanu grunts. Ben yawns at him as he stumbles by, makes his way to the car park and he’s focused on sending a strongly worded text to his dad when someone knocks into him.

‘Oi! Watch where you’re going,’ he snaps, because he’s cranky, although his mood elevates when he sees who he’s bumped into. ‘Officer Highway. Fancy seeing you here. You following me or something?’

‘Could’ve asked you the same thing,’ he answers back, and Ben scoffs, can’t deny that he likes it when he plays along.

‘You ain’t worth a night in a cell, trust me.’

‘And what _is_ worth it?’ the other man asks, gesturing at what must be a huge bruise on his face. He falters for a moment before he plasters a grin on his face. It’s too early for questions he’s running out of answers for.

‘You worried about me, Officer Highway?’ he deflects, tries to ignore the way his heart skips when he splutters a _no_.

He knows what he’s doing when he stares a little too long, a little too intensely, making Officer Highway’s cheeks flush. He can’t help but smirk when the tips of his ears go bright pink with embarrassment.

The way he can’t quite meet Ben’s eyes.

Ben wants.

**3**

_C: Meet me at the Car Lot_

Ben’s heart beats a little faster when the text comes through, in a way it hasn’t in a long time. They’ve been doing this for a while now, hooking up in the lot, and he’d be lying if he said that’s all it was to him. Sex.

‘Scratches an itch,’ Ben had answered honestly one night not long ago, when Callum asked why he slept with randoms. The thing about Ben is that he’s insatiable, always wanting more and always getting it. Callum fucking him _was_ satiating, at least in the beginning. More than just five minutes of fun in an otherwise dull encounter but not even that was enough to scratch his itch.

No, Callum was the itch. Under his skin from day one and, fuck, Ben wanted to ruin him. Turns out it’s Callum who ruins _him_.

He had goaded Callum into bringing the cuffs before, didn’t think he’d actually do it, but when he turns up to the Car Lot and twists the cuffs around Ben’s wrists he’s hard before he even knows it’s all part of the fun.

‘You have the right to remain silent,’ Callum says, undoing Ben’s belt buckle, and he can’t fight the hungry smile that spreads across his face because _fuck_. It’s not long before Callum has him bent over the desk, fucking him with their trousers at their knees and skin chafing against the cold metal constricting him. It’s everything and at the same time it’s not enough.

Ben didn’t know what he had been expecting the first time they met at the Car Lot alone. The other man had seemed sweet before, like he might break under Ben’s touch, a delicate flower for him to rip from the earth.

Callum was full of surprises.

Rough and sure of himself in a way Ben wasn’t expecting. It’s the way Callum thrusts into him with firm hands on his waist and shoulder, or how he growls for Ben to lie on his back, knees up to his chest and Callum’s mouth is _there_. Confident. Masculine. Unashamed. Taking control in a way Ben usually didn’t allow.

He’s used to taking whatever he wants, but it’s Callum who takes, and Ben lets him.

**4**

‘Yeah, I can see you, baby!’ he calls, grinning. Lexie swings across the monkey bars, pausing every second swing to make sure he’s still watching her from the park bench. He can’t help but laugh. They come easily these days.

His mum joins him, passing him a cup of tea.

‘ _Dad_!’ Lexie whines while he’s momentarily distracted, apparently having made it the whole way to the end. He apologises, laughing when she rolls her eyes and stomps over to the swings.

‘Every bit her father,’ his mum comments.

‘Definitely takes after her mum. No way I had that much upper body strength.’ His mum hums in agreement. ‘Oi!’ he protests, and she just shrugs. He shakes his head, smiling, looking back into the sea of children and spots Lexie swinging happily. He feels his mum’s eyes on him. ‘What?’ he asks warily, looking back at her.

‘Nothing,’ she says with a small smile. ‘You’re happy.’

He looks away, suddenly feeling awkward, but he can’t say he disagrees. Callum wants to meet his daughter. It’s a pretty big step forward, and Ben might be in love with him, so yeah, he’s happy. For the first time in a while.

‘I am,’ he says.

‘Is he nice?’ she asks, and he laughs, quirking a curious eyebrow at her. ‘A mother knows.’ She sips at her tea, looking smug. ‘It’s the tall one, isn’t it?’

‘Oh, my God,’ he rubs at his forehead.

‘He seems lovely.’

‘He came to the house with a _search warrant_.’

She shrugs again. ‘Nobody’s perfect. Least of all you.’

‘Thanks, mum,’ he mutters, but there’s no bite to either of their words. They sit in silence then, drinking their tea and watching Lexie talking animatedly to another girl in a dinosaur top.

‘I’m glad,’ she says quietly, and it’s a little too heavy when he presses his lips together and nods, thinks _me too_. Remembers a time after Paul when he thought he’d never get to have something like this again. Maybe he thinks too soon, because in the corner of his eye he sees movement, and suddenly Whitney is marching up to him with determination, four officers in tow.

‘Ben Mitchell,’ she says, an edge of desperation to her usual composed tone, ‘I’m arresting you under suspicion of attempted murder.’

‘Oh, for God’s _sake_ ,’ he hears his mother say, but he’s looking into Whitney’s eyes as one of the officers maneuvers his hands behind his back to cuff him and he knows the answer before he even asks _of who?_

‘Officer Callum Highway.’

His stomach drops.

**5**

Ben’s got daddy issues.

Fuck, he’s probably got plenty more, but he knows this much. It’s why he likes it when Callum takes charge in bed, why he’s always trying to prove himself as a good dad, why he secretly thinks he’s undeserving of all of it but it’s also why he never gives up a fight.

He likes to play the role of the big man, loves to get the last word in, swing the last fist, and he’ll do it until he gets put in his place. He likes getting put in his place.

It’s disarming, how quickly Callum cuts him open and stitches him back up again, makes him feel like maybe he deserves some of the good stuff. Callum’s nice. Callum’s good. Pure. Surely if someone like Callum can love him back he deserves it, and Ben thinks he might, which is the craziest part of it all.

As much as he might play the big man, Ben takes care of the people he loves.

He takes Peggy for spins in the pram when Lou’s head looks like it’s about to explode, makes sure Lexie’s got a nice pair of runners for school and that Lola’s not doing more than her fair share of the parenting. He helps his dad on the odd job when he’s needed, and sure, the cash is nice, but he’s mostly put that behind him.

If he’s been declining more jobs lately because of Callum nobody has to know, but he’ll always be happy to contribute and earn his seat at the table. He’ll always be happy to earn a seat at Callum’s table.

Whether it’s helping to catch a serial killer, or reassuring him so he knows his worth, or making him smile just because he can, Ben wants to help. Especially when Callum’s breathing is heavy and that’s just from the simple task of standing up, looking at the steps up to his porch like they’re Everest.

Even when Ben’s working up a sweat himself, an arm around Callum’s waist as they take each step in tandem, there’s nowhere he’d rather be. Even when they make it to the top and Ben’s grinning because they make it in one piece and Callum looks less than impressed with the whole situation.

Not until Callum thinks otherwise. But Callum _does_ think otherwise.

_Can you come back later?_

He tries not to take it hard, knows Callum’s exhausted and frustrated and his doctor warned he might be a bit “off” for a little while. There’s also the Whitney situation and he knows Callum’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders, but it’s amazing how quickly his brain starts laying bricks.

Building walls.

Ben always seemed to have an endless supply of cement at the ready, but Callum is a wrecking ball and in one swing the big man act crumbles into dust and he’s exposed for what he is. Callum starts, and Ben runs with his tail between his legs because even if he might deserve some of the good stuff he knows he still deserves the bad stuff.

Speaking of which, he’s barely made it outside onto the path when a passing stranger swings the briefcase he’s carrying, clocking him in the head.

When he comes to, he’s got a terrible headache and his hands are tied to a radiator behind him. It’s becoming a habit.

**+1**

Things change. Callum changes, but he’s still the same wrecking ball he always was. In his line of work, in their relationship. In life. A force to be reckoned with, and when Callum wrecks he destroys. His career. His home. His relationships. Them. Everything except Ben’s wall.

With every swing he misses, and with every miss Ben has a chance to lay another brick.

It grows and grows until Ben can’t see beyond it. It’s for his own protection, because Callum still sees him, has always been able to see him, and he knows where to hit Ben where it hurts, knows how to show him for what he is. In July Ben does what he does best and runs.

He never forgets that he deserves the bad stuff, and there’s a lot of it.

His demons grab and pull at his ankles and he’s doesn’t put up much of a fight when he’s pulled beneath the surface. He falls out with most of the family, although he’s never been closer to his dad when he starts tagging along on every job he offers.

His mum eventually tears him back down to size, when she reminds him that Ben might not have a boyfriend anymore but he _does_ have a daughter. It takes a while for her to get through to him, but she does. He’s glad of it.

He puts most of his energy into Lexie. Repairs his relationship with Lola, Jay and everyone else he pushed away in the weeks following the split. He makes a good go of things again. He was never more content with himself than when he was with Callum, when he was loved, and he clings to that version of himself like it’s his only lifeline.

Maybe it was.

But life goes on. Ben moves on and he knows now that Callum does too. Neither of them turning their backs on the past, nor on the darkness they both have inside them, but embracing it.

It’s a few months later, a cold night in the autumn, when he spots a traffic cone in town and he’s laughing. It feels good to laugh, especially now that’s he had a little too much to drink and he’s got a good buzz going.

 _Never stolen a traffic cone on a night out?_ he’d asked Callum on their first proper date when the other man denied ever committing a crime.

 _Why would anyone do that?_ he’d laughed.

 _It’s funny_.

And it is funny, especially when he goads Callum into lifting it and someone somewhere yells ‘Oi!’ and they’re both running, wheezing from the physical activity and the laughing when they finally come to a stop. Callum looks at him stupidly, plants the cone back down on the ground beside them.

‘Thrilling or what?’ Ben quirks an eyebrow at him and Callum rolls his eyes, smiles easily.

‘Think I’ll stick to catching criminals instead of being one,’ he huffs, but he’s got that sparkle in his eyes again. Because both them _have_ moved on. From the arguments, the pain, the hurting. Neither of them turning their backs on the past, nor on the darkness they both have inside them, but embracing it. Along with the good. Together.

Callum found himself again eventually, and he found Ben too.

‘Better catch one, then,’ he says under his breath, leaning close, and Callum crashes their mouths together, pulling him in by the collar.

Callum never lets him forget that he deserves the good stuff. Ben’s still not sure, but when Callum’s kissing him like that, loves him like that, he doesn’t fight it. He rolls with it.

With his hands behind his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the wonderful comments that have been left over the course of this fic, they were really encouraging and probably the only reason we've made it this far.
> 
> Thanks for reading as always and let me know what you think x


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